Watching the Williams Sisters from Second Row, and Other Weekly Wonders

I was so close to Serena and Venis Williams on Friday that I could see every expression scrunching across their faces. I could hear the little half-breathless grunts they made with each 120 mph serve.

My friend and I managed to secure second row, Second Court, center seats — without paying the price of a small child.

We camped out Thursday night. Arriving at 11 p.m., we were given numbers 1042 and 1043. The people in the front had apparently arrived the day before.

tents: A good idea in England

Instead of a tent, we set up our blanket, ate some bread, and prayed against rain.  Then we ate more bread to seal the deal.

At 5 a.m. the next morning, people started to wake. Being an early bird/old person, I was already up, enjoying (or shivering) the crisp morning air and the way the sun hit the grass and the trees. Sunshine in England does amazing things. It carries such a strong warmth, and it makes people endlessly happy.

Throughout the match, they kept talking to and touching each other. Sisters. <3

We entered the park proper at 10 a.m. Much tennis viewing and sunshine dozing ensued.

I now have dreams of becoming a tennis pro… or at least a tennis medium.

In other news:

• I hosted a couch surfer from Barcelona, my first since moving out of ye olde hippy commune circa 2008. The experience was nothing but positive: He was nice, normal, and I will be staying at his place for part of my trip to Barcelona in July.

• My friend Liz has started up her own company designing and selling purses. They are pretty fantastic.
• I am failing to break my soda/caffeine addiction, even though exams are over.

• The magazine for which I was interning has crumbled, bringing with it a mixed blessing. Work experience is always nice, but so is the extremely rare opportunity of having nothing at all to do except travel for an entire summer.
• I just received all my seven shots to go to India… but I have yet to pack more than a single box of my room.

Fortunately, I go to Hogwarts. Perhaps my room will magically pack itself.

Until then, I’m going to keep on enjoying the glory of summer, sunshine and random, unexpected adventures.

May Ball Madness and Moostachios

St John's College, lit up

When Cambridge does an end-of-the-year, you-are-done-with-exams, look-fun type of party, it does it well. Especially at John’s.

Though the tickets may cost you two small children and one leg, and though hunting for a dress may turn you into a terrifying closet searcher, May Balls are amazing.

My lovely dates

Here are some of the things I want to remember:

• Walking in after waiting outside for an hour in heels on sandy garden path, and being handed champagne and strawberries with cream. Bumper cars glint red and orange in the distance. We pause for photos and a toast: “To a beautiful night!” Says Praj, which everyone repeats.
• And then attacking each other like little children with bumper cars.

Bump that car

• The excitement of realizing how many unlimited drinks and different types of food there were. We get cotton candy and popcorn. Alex, claiming man duty, finds himself a hog roast sandwich. We haven’t even moved inside the college yet and already there is too much to see.

• Giving up within twenty minutes and taking off my high heels. The jacket comes out too. Then the blanket.

Candy floss? Cotton candy? Tasty

• Eating our way through the first courts, until we’re stopped with whispered rumors of fireworks. We make our way outside and stand among hundreds of students in ball gowns and crisp suits.
• Music fills the air. “I heard they did this, set it to song,” I say but no one can hear me. Fireworks explode upwards and outwards and I stop talking. (These fireworks are from 2009, but it’s close.)

• Making our way back into college and seeing the Oxygen Bar, the multiple stages (five in all, I think), the food and drinks… Especially the food and drinks: cupcakes and chocolate, crepes, curry, martinis, cocktails, hot tea and coffee, burgers, fries, chips, fish, crackers, cheese, meats, bread, soup, everything. It was more than we could ever eat, more than we could even think to sample.

Drinks in punts

• Stopping to listen to Ellie Goulding, the headlining act. I stand next to Ashley as the boys go sit down. We sing along but not very strongly, since it’s midnight and we’ve had a bit of shisha.

• We find and lose each other throughout the night. New friends join: Zach, Kristin, Lee. Others leave. We can’t move across carpet and grass quickly enough to see everything and everyone.
• So we stop trying. We go into the Great Hall for Ceilidh Dancing, a traditional Irish form of dance similar to four square. An announcer stands at the front and shouts out instructions.

• “Hold out your arms!” A drunk man tells me. I do and he puts a broken deer/moose/animal head in them, turns around, and sprints off. I am left with deer/moose, which we name Moosey and keep for half the night. It’s 4 a.m.

Moosey. Not quite camera ready.

• By 5 a.m., we have found mustaches in Ashley’s bag. As in, she brought them deliberately. So we put them on and wear ball gowns and black ties and moostachios. It’s just terribly funny with all of our exhaustion.

• They start bringing out breakfast: rolls, pastries, coffee, tea. “I can’t eat anymore,” I moan as I eat two more veggie breakfast patties.
• We make it to the Survivors Photo, a picture at the back of John’s. It’s 6:30 a.m. and the sun has been shining for hours. I stand next to friends, arms draped around each other, swaying in cold and exhaustion.

• “NAKKEEED MAN!!!” Someone is shouting. I look over and there is, indeed, a naked man. Entirely naked. Standing on a podium with his arms and man-bits out. “Naked maaaan!” He remains there for three minutes.

• We take pictures and then stumble forward together. Throngs of students wander along the streets towards home in the early morning. I grab a couple more pieces of fruit for the road. “Can’t eat anymore,” I say, but of course it’s a lie.

• “I can’t imagine a better group to have spent the night with,” says Praj at one point. “Look at you, getting all sentimental,” quips Alex, and we laugh because it’s all a bit true. It was a beautiful night. A surreal night.

(Thank you Don.)

Q: What do Suicide Sunday, the Sun Tabloid, and Cambridge Students Have in Common?

A: They are all part of the madness that ensues during May Week.

Sometimes we wear hats.

When Cambridge students celebrate, they do it like they do everything else: obsessively. We’re the kind of folks that struggle with balance.

Or maybe the balance thing is just the result of too many glasses of Pimms.

Jesus College Garden Party

Suicide Sunday is the annual Sunday before the beginning of May Week. Colleges, clubs and drinking societies host garden parties and ents.

I went to my share of garden parties and ents.

After my near-win at Sumo Wrestling

Except these aren’t your normal casual soirees. They are done Cambridge style, meaning they involve lots of blazers and chats about the meaning of life.

Disputes about life-meanings are best settled via Sumo Wrestling suits.

Apparently The Sun Tabloid sends an undercover photographer to the Wyvern Garden Party each year to catch images of Cambridge debauchery. Understandable, given the presence of jell-o wrestling (which I disapprove extremely, but let’s leave it at that).

That having been said, the garden parties were far more tame than what you’d find at even the most casual fraternity party in the states.

Now after just three hours of sleep (and waking up as my housemates were casually preparing for bed) I’m getting ready for day number two.

Warm(ish) summer days

I am so tired.

Bumps. Part of a weird rowing tradition.

Today involves the Pentathlon Garden Party (for which I am currently storing around 50 bottles of wine, two foam swords, and a creepy singing horse in my room).

I will also try to stay awake long enough to watch fireworks for Trinity’s May Ball from the back of John’s. Although everyone knows Trinity’s fireworks will be inferior.

Because it is Trinity.

And now I leave you with fun facts: Lord Byron used to keep a pet bear in his house. He was angry at Cambridge’s ban on proper animals.

Another fun fact: Cambridge students are still cheeky hundreds of years later.

Goodnight.

Or morning.

Glorious Advances (or: Cambridge in the Springtime at the Ball)

I’m excited.

John's May Ball

Every exam should end with the spraying of champagne. Fortunately, that’s exactly what happened when I finished my final test yesterday. Success!

Champagne at varsity

And every week should be filled with garden parties and May Balls (even if the aforementioned balls take place in June).

What is a garden party? Think Pimms (a weird sticky wine drink they serve with mint and fruit), strawberries, high heels and scones (or scooons, as they say here).

by Vin Shen. Pentathlon Garden Party!

All sorts of clubs, teams and even friends host garden parties. They do indeed take place in Cambridge’s many lovely gardens.

…even if it does rain 90% of the time.

May Balls are also right around the corner. I’ve never been to a ball, but I understand they are amazing, lavish and a little insane. They last all night until the early morning. Sometimes there are princes and pumpkins.

A little bit of John's May Ball advert

Fortunately, St. John’s College (my college!) is known for having one of the best May Balls.

Images from last year, borrowed from the website

Wait, your party doesn’t have a carousel?

So I’m a little excited. Exams are done and May Week has begun, officially commencing with Suicide Sunday (what an odd name!) in a couple days.

Now I’m off to go bake and prep for tonight.

Things for which I’m grateful and how Cambridge is making me humble

These last few weeks have made me really grateful for several things, such as:

• I have friends with birthdays and surprises.

sitting in Jesus Green (Thanks Aretha for the photo)

• The weather has been nice enough to warrant birthday surprises outside, BBQ, cakes, football (aka soccer) and all.

How many Cambridge students does it take to light candles? More than four.

• I am nearly done with exams… Although that does mean my days will no longer be spent next to my new love, this guy:

Ted, the 2nd floor library skeleton.

…Wait. Your library doesn’t have one of these to encourage you?

• That I can study. I met a girl the other day who recently had surgery to remove a brain tumor. Doctors say the way she learns is a bit different now. She’s had to figure out new methods in addition to new coursework.

• I will never be tempted to memorize an entire book with my photographic memory and then write down chapters for my exam essay, like a Cambridge student did a couple years ago. Guess he was caught. …although I wouldn’t mind a photographic memory.

Both making fierce faces. Thanks, Tyra.

• I rarely have to apply for visas when traveling, unlike my friend from India. My visa to India has been slow in coming. It’s a tedious process and I am not a creature of patience (which perhaps will be improved by living with monks.)

Never too many fancy dinners in Cam

• My beautiful friends will let me borrow their ball gowns for the John’s May Ball (listed seventh greatest party in the world by Time Magazine). Apparently my strategy of waiting for a fairy godmother and singing birds rarely works. Fairy tale fail.

• For my Donor (who I have nicnamed The Don, at least in my heart). The Davies-Jackson changed my life.

Thank you, life. Thank you everything. So now tell me: What makes you grateful?