Winding Down

"You are confined only by the walls you build yourself." 

-Anonymous 

In exactly two weeks I'll be stepping on a plane to head back to the States. A few thousand dollars poorer but more rich in my experiences, I'll head on back to good ole Arkansas and get on with reality. It's been nice to postpone real life if only for four months and embark on this amazing adventure. School? Who cared. Fun exploring Europe? Yes please.

Paris? Mais, oui.
         Barcelona? Si.
                         Budapest? Check.
                                        Rome? Been There.
                                                  London? Straight On.

                                Random cities on the French Riviera? Did it.

I've loved every minute here. I've made awesome friends (shout out to Alizee, Louis and Romain who are pretty much my favorite French people ever), and had some pretty memorable experiences. As I take on finals this next week, I'm starting to be more sad with the realization that I really am leaving and won't ever see some of these people again. That's a depressing thought. I wouldn't have traded this semester for anything else. Not for another program, another apartment living experience or another school. God knew what he was doing when he placed me here in the Riv. 

Since London I've been busy writing research papers, doing projects, spending as much time as possible on the beach, and getting incredibly burnt. We got to go to St. Marguerite Island on Sunday and it was absolutely beautiful. 

We saw the jail where the man with the iron mask was held, went on a mini hike (which was unexpected as I wore flats on the trip... poor choice number 1), and laid out on the beach after having a picnic. The weather was amazing, so clear and not even that hot. It was so perfect, I didn't even think I was getting any sun. I put SPF 70 on my face since even 5 minutes in the sun can cause my poor little cheeks to burn, but gave no thought to putting it on anywhere else. On the ferry ride back to Cannes, I began to realize that yeah, I was burnt. I tried to be optimistic about it, but as I got out of the shower when I got home a look in the mirror revealed the truth- I was fried. I mean, my skin was giving off so much heat I probably could've cooked an egg on it. My chest and arms were basically the color of a tomato. Really flattering you know? Well, 11 euros later,  I owned Aloe and finally some relief. Let's just say, I miss my $2 tube of aloe at Walmart. It actually hurt more to hand over all that money than my sunburn did. But the fact that I woke up in pain the night before really factored into my decision to purchase. Add onto the awful sunburn a cold, and you can imagine my attitude the past few days. Needless to say, I wish my mom was here to take care of me. Soon enough. Thankfully, I packed Benadryl so I managed to somehow sleep at night.

Life is never dull on the Riv, there's always something new to see or do. Lately there's been quite the influx of Brits, Aussies, and Yachties in general, so it's been fun to see Antibes go from a sleepy port town to a bustling center of activity. Admittedly, I enjoyed my quiet strolls down the cobblestone streets but it's cool to see so many new faces at the same time and feel like a local. I've put in my time. I consider myself a resident of this quaint town. Well, I'm off to make some more memories, eat some more kebabs and gelato, and sit on the beach some more (after my sunburn goes away of course).

Until next time, 

Jackie

Guest Post: My Sister's Tribute

I believe in cathartic exercises. In order for me not to suffer from serious mental repercussions down the road by not dealing with the death of my dog, I decided to write about her. I thought, since we already beat a dead horse by posting Abramovitz blog posts about Ginger all over the internet, what would it hurt to post my piece? I wrote this in an airport, with tears streaming down my face. Always classy. 

A Ginger Tribute:

I vividly remember that day.
The day I figured out dogs were more interested in licking my face than biting my hand off. It was a black lab named Sam, and I fell in love instantly. Frequent basement visits to cuddle and kiss his head followed. Pretty soon we moved, Sam stayed, and I started begging. Begging for a dog I could hold and love as my own. My little 8 year old voice finally broke down my parents resolve.

I vividly remember that day.
The day we drove to pick up the dog of my very own. It seemed to last an eternity, but she was worth the wait. Driving home I couldn't take my eyes off the chubby little ball of fur. And I fell in love instantly. She. Was. Crazy. She would chase me, biting my ankles and tripping me with her paw. She pooped under my chair while I was eating dinner one night. She grabbed a sandwich out of my hand before I could take a second bite. And I knew. She was the perfect dog for me. When she was cursed by my family members and sent outside, I would visit her. We walked together a lot, and somehow she always knew going to the bathroom while on a walk was a horrible idea. She had a shy bladder, just like me. In high school I was lonely. I felt non existent, unimportant, and unnoticed. But, when I walked through that door, I existed, was important to, and noticed by Ginger. While she was simply a dog, it was my dog: the dog who I fell in love with instantly, and who now loved me too.

I vividly remember that day.
The day I was heading back to Dallas. She was 14. It was Christmastime. And I knew. This was my goodbye. She had gone into the laundry room to drink water, so I waited. But she was always worth the wait. As I kissed her head for what I somehow knew was the last time, I cried. I cried because she was the perfect dog for me. I cried because it's impossible to say goodbye to the dog who I fell in love with instantly, and who I will love for the rest of my life. 

London Calling

"The price of greatness is responsibility."

-Winston Churchill

Due to the whirlwind of a last week I had, I haven't had time to post about my adventures in London, but now that I have a huge paper due tomorrow, I figured now is as good a time as any... (Don't worry mom and dad, I'll do my paper.)

London was a struggle, not gonna lie. As Sam and I discovered two days before we left, our tickets had been cancelled and so we frantically searched for the cheapest way for us to get to London over the weekend. Thankfully, leaving Friday morning was the same price as leaving Thursday night so we ended up being able to book our flight, no problem, and breathed a sigh of relief. Or so we thought. We had been invited by this guy to CouchSurf with him- which we were really excited about. What a legit experience, ya know?! After the ticket debacle, I messaged our host and explained the situation.

"Well, the reason I invited you was because you'd have 3 nights so we could get to know each other. Now that you're only here two nights, you can probably find somewhere else to stay..."

Our disbelief at the fact this guy was flaking on us less than 24 hours before we arrived in London was immense. We scrambled to find a plan B, we considered showing up at his doorstep and telling him to suck it up but seeing as he never gave us his address, that option was out. Thankfully we had an angel of a friend who was studying in London (I actually met her through my friend Alyssa in Paris over Spring Break), agree to let us stay on her floor- we were so grateful. The day dawned and Sam and I headed to London! After a smooth plane ride, an exchanging of money at a horrible rate (about $1.80 to 1 pound) and relatively easy time navigating the subway we finally arrived, dropped our bags off at April's apartment and set out to explore the city!

I'm pretty sure we say everything there was to see. Trafalgar Square, Picadilly Circus, Westminster Abbey, Parliament, Big Ben, The Eye, Buckingham Palace, St. James Park, Tower Bridge, Tower of London, British History Museum, Hyde Park, the Peter Pan Statue, Camden, MI6, #10 Downing Street, Platform 9 3/4, delicious fish n' chips, and countless other monuments that meant nothing to us...

The second day after eating breakfast in a crypt- great experience- we watched the changing of the guards, and were on our way to Hyde Park when the worst thing happened. Nose buried in Rick Steve's for directions, some little gypsy kid walked by and took my phone out of my pocket. I frantically told Sam that my phone was just stolen, and I stopped the perp... some 12 year old boy. I told him to give me my phone back, stuck my hand in his jacket pocket (yeah, I know. That's kind of harsh but I just wanted my phone back), and came up empty. Little snot had already moved my phone into a different pocket or had passed it off to his dad. So there I watched as my phone and the kid walked off into the London street. Devastated. I tried not to let it ruin the rest of my time, but that's something of a low blow to ones happiness. We met up with our friend Ellis though which was fun, and went on with our trip.

By day 3, Sunday, we were ready to go home. I couldn't walk due to a blister the size of Texas on my foot, so we hobbled our way to Abbey Road (ended up at the WRONG Abbey Road... who puts two in the same city?!) and Olympic Park. Turns out we saw neither as navigation error plagued our last day. Finally, with one look at how defeated Sam was and how defeated I was, we decided to cut our loses and just head to the airport. Afternoon tea, scones and clotted cream made the wait at the airport worthwhile and at 11:30 p.m. we finally arrived in Nice. Another slight oversight on our part- we thought we were smart giving ourselves more time in London but in reality, we booked our flight after the last bus and train came through Nice. A 60 euro cab ride later, we stumbled into our house, sore, exhausted, but a bit more cultured. Despite all that happened to us in London, we had an awesome trip. It was so amazing to see all the history, walk the streets I've seen in so many movies, and hear the amazing accents. It's true. Brits teeth are nothing to write home to mom about, but they make up for it in character I suppose. I recommend everyone to go to London. It's just a fun city to explore, and I would also recommend that you take better shoes...

Check Facebook for more pictures from London! Also, get ready for a guest post from my very own sister in a few days! :) She's more talented than me so I may be out of a blog in not too long! 

Until then, mind the gap and straight on!

Jackie

Man's Best Friend.

"Animals are such agreeable friends. They ask no questions, they pass no criticism."

- George Eliot 

Baby G.

Ging.

Tootsie.

Fart.

My Pup.

Gingie-poo.

G-dog.

Pookie.

It was 1998. I was six, and my family brought home a fat, golden ball of energy. Gingersnap Blossom (yes, I picked her middle name. Remember my age.) Abramovitz was home. Born March 3rd, at six weeks old when we brought her home, she was tiny- just the perfect size for a little girl to hug tight (when she would sit still).

Early memories of my precious dog included:

 Ging leaping up to grab a sandwich from Erin's hand, mid bite. 

Mom tackling Ginger and screaming at her cause she was seriously possessed by the devil as a puppy. 

Ginger eating anything and everything (6 chocolate covered doughnuts, a piece of bread covered in hot sauce, grass... whatever), and only ever getting sick (on my bed of course) after eating Pumpkin Pie. Dad learned his lesson after that. 

Racing out of our house to attack Otis, the annoying dog next door. 

Romping in the snow. 

Long walks around the neighborhood.

Playing catch with her favorite football.

Watching her watch TV and getting so excited for every animal commercial.

Running around the house as she tripped you. And yes. It was an actual trip. She was one smart cookie.

Waking up and seeing her smile first thing in the morning.

Moving to AR she aged about 12 years. She was the best car rider we had in the family, but all the changes did a number on her. I've never seen a dog go whiter, faster from all the stress.

Hours spent petting her, using her as a pillow, watching movies, her licking my tears away, giving me kisses (my mom hated her licking), giving her scraps from the table when mom and dad weren't paying attention, opening christmas gifts with her always in the middle of everything, making food and constantly tripping over her since the middle of the kitchen floor was her favorite place to be, hearing the jingle of her dog tags as she would walk upstairs and knowing her little face would soon be nudging me awake. All these I hold on to. Even though Ging was just a dog, she really was, is, a member of our family. I don't have a single memory growing up where Ginger wasn't around somewhere. 15 years with one dog is a long time. Even though I have scars from her puppy-biting days, I'm glad I have those. I will always remember the precious golden who stole my heart and who taught me that dogs really are man's best friend. 

It's 2013. I am 21 years old, and my old, white, beautiful puppy is gone forever. Three months ago I promised Ginger I'd come home and give her a hug at the end of study abroad, but that won't happen. Even though she's just a dog, and some might wonder why I even care, she was my dog, and a member of my family. I already dread walking into my house and not being greeted by her cute face. Here's to you G. I love you forever.