The Latest News from Ljubljana

So, for the past eight days, I’ve been through three different countries and am on my way to a fourth. Carrie and I met up with Sarah in Germany, then we continued on towards Vienna, Austria. Our latest destination has been Slovenia, Bled first, then Ljubljana.

            Austria was rather wet and chilly, but we saw an amazing museum dedicated to the Empress Elizabeth, or Sissi as she was commonly called. This most interesting woman captivated the Emperor with her beauty and independence, but both of these traits were rather troublesome in later years. Sissi wanted her freedom, and in the later years of her marriage travelled excessively. Her appearance became such a central focus that this extraordinary woman spent hours each day in beauty rituals. However, her looks gave her a political power unusual for a female of her time. Sissi was assassinated, which basically made her a saint in her empire; there is nothing quite like dying to improve one’s reputation.

            Also in Austria, I caught a glimpse of the Lipizzaners used in the Spanish Riding School in Vienna. These horses perform acrobatic “airs above the ground,” which used to be practiced as strategic attacks in battle. Now, they are merely preserved as an art which has passed into disuse.

            We arrived in Bled late in the evening on the 19^th and promptly became completely paranoid. The train platform, with the lurking figures and thuggish-looking men standing around just set us on edge. Also, there were two youngish men (at least one was American) who offered to share a taxi with us. Taken, anybody? But, we declined and got to our hostel safely, with much whispering in the backseat about making exact change for the driver. When we arrived, our host showed us to our room, which was built for six, but we got it for the same price as a three-person room. Our host was one of those cases, as Sarah later put, when judging a book by its cover gave you a misleading impression. His features resembled those of a professional boxer and he was tall and intimidating, combine that with a Slovene accent and you had the makings of a Hollywood thug. But he was really nice and helpful! He even let us play with his guard dog, who was really sweet too!

            I woke up the next day, to Carrie and Sarah serenading me with “Happy Birthday.” Darnit, I’m old. Twenty, ewwww. I’m in my twenties. Okay, sorry about the rant. I’ll get over it. The daylight washed away our fears from the night before; everything seemed crisp and cheerful under the spring sky, which was a brilliant azure. We hiked around Lake Bled and climbed up to a castle. Later, we rowed out to a tiny island in the centre of the lake. By “we,” I mean Sarah. While singing musical numbers. Dang, girlfriend got guns. When we got to the island, we explored a little and took ultra-cheesy jumping photos. See facebook for the evidence. Once ashore again, we ate a local cake and tried samples of Slovenian honey. After we meandered back to our hostel, Sarah put on music and we had a dance party. I think the couple in the room next to ours was probably thinking evil thoughts about “those crazy Americans.”

            The following day, we caught the train to Ljubljana. (Hey, spell-check recognized that name!) Here, we’ve spent the past two days touring the local castle, crossing bridges and enjoying the very hip atmosphere in Celica Hostel. Apparently, this particular hostel used to be a prison, until artists refurbished it and changed it into a very youthful and artistic building. At the moment, I am sitting in the Eastern Lounge, where one must remove one’s shoes and sit on the round, wicker cushions (?). Tomorrow, a very, very early morning, but onwards to… VENICE!!!

            

The Hapsburgs had the right idea

So, on day two in Germany... I went to Cinderella's castle. Not really, I went to schloss Neuschwanstein in Fussen on which Walt Disney based Prince Charming's castle. After a two hour train ride, my tour group trekked up the side of the most gorgeous Bavarian mountain. Our guide, Nick, had a most peculiar accent: sort of New Zealand meets German, which I puzzled over for some time, until I overheard him tell one of the other tourists that he was from South Africa. Face palm. I can't believe I didn't catch that.While on our hike, we passed a beautiful lake. You could see the reflection of the surrounding mountains in the portion which wasn't frozen, where geese and the heraldic symbol of Bavarian nobility, the swan, swam gracefully together.
Once we got into the castle, we met the most amazingly adorable, young German woman who gave us a tour of the interior of Neuschwanstein. I learned that Ludwig the II, who was declared mentally unstable, built this castle based entirely on the operas of Wagner. The walls were decorated with murals depicting the legends of Tristan and Isolde, Sir Gawain and Sir Percival, and several other really German sounding names that I can't really remember. He also designed a grotto, out of one of the operas, just because. I mean, if I had nearly unlimited means to build my dream house, I'm not sure if I could put in a fake cave, but whatever floats your boat. On the way back down the mountain, I saw horse drawn carriages for the lazier, richer tourists. I think I saw a distant cousin of my buddy Spiffy. You scheming pony, I miss you!
By the time we got back to our hostel, Carrie, Sarah and I were exhausted, especially because we anticipated getting up at four a.m. to catch a train. Four rolls around and I hear Sarah's alarm going off, do I get up? I need to get up, oh, fine, I'll get up. Stumbling around the room and packing in the meagre beam of light from under the bathroom door, I eventually managed to gather my things together.
We all trundle off to the train station fifteen minutes later, me shuffling along with my little rolling suitcase, trying not to let it capsize on curbs. Arriving at the station, we discovered that the office which needed to validate our Eurail passes wouldn't open until seven a.m.!!! But glorious day, the lady at the information desk told us there was an even more direct route to Vienna which left at 7:20. So, four chapters into a Jane Austen novel later, we sped our way towards Austria.
Along the way, Sarah whips out a deck of playing cards and challenges Carrie and me to a game of go fish. Since it is Sarah, the cards have Disney princesses on them, and in the middle of the game, this tiny German fairy-child walks by. Her eyes got really wide and she jabbered something in excited tones. We all kind of smiled and shrugged and muttered that we don't know any German, then she skipped away giggling. Later she returned, and Sarah fishes out the wild card, featuring Belle, Aurora, Ariel, Cinderella and Jasmine, and gives it to this little blonde Fraulein. With this gift, she suddenly became most animated herself and began pointing at Aurora and grinning. We all sort of made hand gestures and pointed, making a conversation out of this little playing card. Eventually, the girl's mother showed up, who actually spoke English. She chatted with us for a little while, asking where we are from and what we studied. Apparently, we convinced her that we weren't bad people and she could trust us with Leuke, cause she didn't really bother to check up on her too much after that. We sketched and taught each other the German and English words for butterfly, mouse and whale, kinda adorable. After a while, she started getting a little tipsy on all of our attention, climbing on our table and turning the reading lights on and off. We resorted to playing patty-cake games, until she started tickling me. Thank you, Sarah Stitt, for letting her know I'm ticklish.
Once we arrived in Vienna, we checked into our hostel, which really isn't at all bad. In fact, my dorm at Mercer, freshman year was less cheerful. Then we wandered around Emperor Franz Joseph and Empress Elisabeth (Sissi) of Austria's palace gardens. I'd just like to say, I'm impressed. They even built a Roman ruin. That is definitely when you know you have arrived, when you can afford to fake classical ruins. Vienna, day two awaits tomorrow, more pictures and commentary to come.

Munich!

As I mentioned in my last entry, I’m currently in Germany. This morning, at the unearthly hour of midnight, Carrie and I got on a coach for Gatwick. Once we arrived, we settled down for a few comfortable hours to nap on the frigid stone floor of the airport terminal. I love some of the adventures that travelling brings. After this attempt at redeeming a night of lost sleep, we scurried through security and boarded our EasyJet flight. I fell asleep before we took off.

When we landed, about two hours later, Carrie and I burst into the German sunshine grinning. One of the crazy, wonderful miracles about travelling happens when you are completely exhausted, but you can’t stop smiling because the person next to you is speaking in a different language and just about everything familiar has long since been left behind. After an improvised attempt to freshen up in one of the airport toilets, we ordered blueberry muffins through much pointing and nodding. I need to pick up some useful German phrases. At the moment, I only know “thank you,” “good day,” “no,” “I don’t speak German,” “ninety-nine red hot-air balloons” and an expletive. Very practical, of course.

Once we met up with Sarah, who joined us from a stay in Poland, we checked in at our hostel. I was surprised; the place is actually not too bad! Not the Ritz, but definitely not without its comforts. We wandered around central Munich for much of the afternoon, ordered paninis (which are actually more like hot dogs than the grilled flatbread sandwiches we call paninis, except that a German panini makes you want to never return to their half-breed American frankfurter counterparts) and generally marvelled at the snippets of culture we encountered. Some sort of sports event was going on and the three of us kept seeing Germans wearing red and white scarves and sports jerseys, while Italians chanted and wore scarves of blue with “Milano” written on them. At one point, we sat down in a square to rest our feet, then I lay my head down and dozed off. Sarah woke me fifteen minutes later, both amused and regretful. A cup of instant coffee back in our room and I was ready for round two with Germany.

This evening, we ate at a traditional German restaurant. I had sauerkraut and sausage, and had the unfortunate surprise to learn that my water with dinner cost me 3 Euros. Darn you, hidden costs! The shower in the hostel, too, was a bit of a disappointment; according to Sarah, it functions like a military shower. You have to keep pushing the dial in, if you want continuous water flow, but this just make showering a little more like a game. Quick! Lather on the soap, before the water runs out!

The TV in my room is playing The Simpsons, in German. 

End of Term Reflections

This past week has definitely been a rollercoaster of events. On Saturday, the 5^th, my friend, Cecilia, from all the way back in the dark ages, when I was a high schooler arrived at Gloucester Green on The Airline Coach. Exactly ten days later, I am typing this piece from a hostel in Germany.

            I’ll slow down and go through the details; after all, those are the important parts of any journey.

            On Saturday, after Ceci moved in, the two of us wandered around the shops in Oxford. We marvelled at the beautiful, but ridiculously expensive clothing and the bizarre fashions. Jumpsuits, apparently, are in at the moment. I’ll just claim that I can’t really pull off that look and admire the brave few who can. We ate Cornish pasties and drank ginger beer (a soft drink like ginger ale, only spicier). Later that evening, she, Emily and I went to the Magdalen College evensong to hear the choir. In moments like those, when you hear the alien and angelic collective voice of men and boys, you feel marvellously small and human. Especially in an ancient chapel, such as Magdalen College’s.

            Sunday, we went to Wesley Memorial. I was extremely pleased at the easy and warm reception she received from the other students, whom we promised to see later in the week for a pancake party. Since the weather was behaving itself in a generous fit of non-British sunshine, we wandered around Christ Church Meadows, taking photos and generally exploring.

            Monday was our first big trip into London, after a most enlightened lecture from Dr. Warner. We arrived at about 3 p.m. just in time to tour the Royal Mews. If you know me at all, you know I love horses. Riding them… being around them… cleaning up after them… (sometimes), you get the picture. Well, this particular place is the location of the royal carriages and carriage horses, so of course, I had a splendid time. After that, we took altogether too many photos of Buckingham Palace. See my facebook album if you have any doubts of this! We wandered around (St.?) James Park, en route to Parliament and Big Ben. The guard in the Parliamentary buildings carried the first firearm I’ve seen since arriving in the UK and security was quite rigorous, but a very cool place to visit. Ceci and I were both grateful to call it a day when our bus arrived at 8.50.

            The next day, we celebrated the end of the Hilary term with the other students in my Programme with a luncheon. Later, after visiting a few local museums, she and I celebrated Mardi Gras with the students of the church by eating pancakes. Of course, an American would really call them crepes, but they were quite delicious all the same.

            Wednesday, the Programme took a tour of a castle and the house of the past Prime Minister, Benjamin Disraeli. My photos will tell the story better than I can, but one thing one doesn’t expect about a castle is the cold. Broughton Castle was absolutely freezing! Even in the English winter, the weather outdoors was warmer than inside.

            Thursday was quiet for both Ceci and I; I went to my last tutorial of the term and she did a little exploration of Oxford with the aid of a map.

            The last day of Cecilia’s stay, Friday, we spent almost entirely in London. We toured Westminster Abbey and the Royal Bank museum, in addition to seeing Harrods and Hyde Park by the light of the setting sun. We caught our bus back to Oxford, then we said our goodbyes at the bus station at Gloucester Green before she took the coach back to Gatwick Airport.

            I definitely feel that I’ve seen quite a bit of London that I hadn’t before. I can now say that I’ve been to see the Palace and photographed Big Ben, like every tourist of London before me. But it is somehow important to do all of those things while you have the opportunity. I’m quickly realizing how rapidly the first term has vanished. There are fourteen brief weeks until I leave Europe indefinitely. I’m scared; this place is too wonderful. I want to cling to every moment, remember every worn cobblestone and cherish those rare, precious times when I catch myself saying “lift” instead of “elevator” or writing “trainers” on my packing list, instead of “tennis shoes” or “sneakers.” I’ve also discovered that America as a whole is missing out on a really fantastic sport: rugby. We should definitely take a tip from the Europeans and adopt this game. None of the timorous padding or helmets of American Football, nor are there any of the constant interruptions of action between plays. My only criticism of this wonderful sport is its terminology; apparently the equivalent of a “touchdown” is a “try.” Doesn’t that sound like a mere attempt, not success? 

Then the Sun Came Up...

As I type these words, I am listening to "Hey, Jude." England, folks, has sunk its hooks into me. I'm getting to love it a little more each day, but that might be because the weather is improving somewhat.
As promised, I will go into a bit more detail about the ball last Friday. After rushing back from my fencing class, I took the world's fastest shower and struggled to make myself presentable after an hour and a half of sweating in very old fencing equipment. Some of the other Americans arrived at the house where we chatted, took pictures (sadly the camera was lost at the dance, so they may never make an appearance on Facebook) and ate a quick snack. We all trooped over to the Union and queued to get inside. The library had made a transformation from a serious and austere building, into a darkly inviting retreat. Once inside, we explored a little, visiting a room upstairs where people played blackjack, roulette and poker. My friend and I quickly lost our gratis bag of plastic chips at the blackjack table. Apparently, dressing like characters from a James Bond film does not give you Casino Royale skills. A restaurant called The Mission (Chipotle, by another name) catered with made to order burritos. In a large tent, lit with chandeliers of black stones, a guitarist played Jason Mraz and Jimmy Buffet, later followed by an acapella group called The Oxford Gargoyles. In a large chamber leading from the tent, usually reserved for the famous Oxford Union debates, a large jazz band blared its music to swaying dancers. Later, towards the end of the night, this room held a ballroom exhibition (very awesome!!!!) and a silent disco. What is a silent disco? That's what I wanted to know, upon first hearing that phrase. This sort of thing involves a pair of headphones for each of the dancers, with two or three music channels to choose between. Everyone wears these headphones and dances around for a while, which looks really insane if you can't hear the music. One of the only downsides to the ball was that there weren't enough headphones for all of the participants. As we left, the clouds opened fire and sent us back in a torrent of rain. Usually, I would have found this extremely irksome, but somehow it was a perfectly whimsical end to the ball. I may or may not have been singing "If you like Pina Coladas" in my head all the way back to Faulkner Street.
Other than a spectacular night last Friday, things haven't been too crazy. Sunday night, I stayed up a little too late planning a takeover of a small island country called Sealand with the folks on Trinity Street. Apparently, this place makes money by selling titles to people who have always wanted to add "Duke," "Count" or "Lord" (or all of the female equivalents) to their names. Not an impressively beautiful country, just an oil rig in the Atlantic. But if it is what you call home, by all means, what is a more creative way to make money than selling titles? Oh, wait, I'm pretty sure Louis XIV did that, too (History nerd joke, KingSu'd be proud). Speaking of History, on Wednesday, I had a French tutorial that started on how much one French newspaper hates David Cameron's policy on tree preservation, then somehow got onto the Hapsburgs and their jaws, hemophilia, and Queen Victoria's intense procreation. All in French. Then a tutorial today about Tom Stoppard's plays, after which I wandered in and out of book shops and enjoyed the precious sunshine.
Tomorrow, fencing as usual, although afterwards, I will once again frantically get ready for an exciting evening. I've been invited to one of the Oxford college's formal dinners. This should be a very cool event, but I have no idea what to expect. At one of the local department stores (think an English Dillard's), I managed to find a really fantastic emerald green dress that will hopefully fit the occasion. Wish me luck!

February unfurls like a flower

To start, I'd like to apologize for the delay in my correspondence, life in Oxford has suddenly become wildly exciting and I've been frantically trying to keep up with all of my loved ones back in the States while enjoying the fun times here.
I think I'll start from the end and work my way backwards, if you all don't mind.
Yesterday I ate zebra meat. Made into sushi, courtesy of Jack Steiner, my housemate. Actually, I ate a lot of really weird meats yesterday, such as wildebeest meat pie, a couple of different types of wild bird, haggis on crackers, venison chili, and kangaroo, not to mention the rabbit stew I made. (It was pretty squeamish work dicing the rabbit meat off of an actual rabbit body; no buggs bunny jokes, please!) Jack organized this occasion to try a smorgasbord of odd meats to celebrate Charles Darwin's birthday, apparently the official title of this get-together was a Phylum Feast. I have to congratulate all of the participants, the OOSC is hosting a group of pretty decent cooks!
Friday evening, Miss Sarah Stitt and I took a brief trip into London to see The Wizard of Oz on the West End, in the Palladium Theatre. I touched the original Phantom of the Opera's elbow, and I have a photo to prove it. The show itself was pretty solidly produced; the actress/singer playing Dorothy had a darling singing voice. Somewhere over the Rainbow brought the house down, just a spectacularly pure bit of music. Apparently, when Andrew Lloyd Webber was casting this show, he made the auditions into a reality tv series. Think American Idol or America's Next Top Model for the part of Dorothy, whatever his methods, I liked the result! There was a particularly fantastic bit of stage tech that I'm still scratching my head over: Dorothy and her three friends were getting spruced up for their appointment with the Wizard and in a whirl, Dorothy's dress turns from a blue checked pattern to green. (How did they do it!?!?)
This coming Friday, some of the other Americans and I will be attending a "Night in Havana" hosted by the Oxford Union. Ladies and Gentlemen, this will be my first, real English ball! Emily, my other housemate, and I have been doing a bit of bargain shopping for some appropriately ravishing dresses. I've managed to find a lovely, black satin knee-length dress in a very classic silhouette. Hopefully, pictures will be on Facebook next weekend. I don't want to say too much, but there is a certain English gentleman who has made plans to accompany me.
I've started to make reservations for the March-April break with two of the other Mercer girls on this trip. I'm really excited to finally get to see Europe. I don't think I can quite translate how my face is lighting up just thinking about this! Germany, Austria, Slovenia, Italy, and France, ah bliss! All I could wish for was a year to savour each of the stops completely. And, best of all, I'll finally be able to return my dear friend Aude's visit to Georgia, by seeing her in Paris.
Speaking of seeing dear friends, I excitedly anticipating a week with my best high school friend, Cecilia! March 5th! Just around the corner, meaning I need to start brainstorming some really clever activities to make this trip especially fantastic!
Anyhow, the weather here is beginning to abandon that frosty cruelty, meaning it has just been rather damp on and off. I mean, it could be drastically nasty; this isn't too bad (knock on wood). Some star-shaped lilac flowers have begun to bloom in my front garden. I think that they are a good omen for the coming spring, like a promise of what is to come.

Getting Started

I suddenly realized that I've been living in a foreign country for more than a week now. It's rather odd to think about that, especially with the knowledge that I have about another two-dozen weeks to go. I think it's safe to say I am definitely enjoying the prospect.
I'll begin with the random aspects of my trip so far... Like "cheers." I'm not entirely sure if I understand the usage of this phrase enough to get away with actually using it myself. In the states, we say "cheers" when we clink wine glasses, as if to say "I'm very happy that something is in my glass/the person giving the toast has stopped talking." In England, someone said "cheers" to me after handing me my plate in a restaurant and I thanked him ("you're welcome," "enjoy" perhaps?). Then someone said cheers to me when I handed him a pitcher of water after church today ("thanks"?). I've also heard it exchanged between people when parting ways ("see you" or maybe "take care of yourself"). I thoroughly interrogated an English person about it yesterday, with little luck. He gave an explanation of "cheers" as a "thanks" or "I'm leaving now" sort of phrase. All I know is that I need to adopt this, because it is seriously cool English slang.
I've also noticed that probably the main difference between British English and American English, besides random bits of vocabulary and diverse spelling, is in the vowels. American English has a slightly more nasal pronunciation of "a" sounds, "ay." While, the British "a" is more aspirated, like "ah." Ah-men, not Ay-men to finish a prayer. The English also have words like "paedophile" instead of pedophile, or "anaemic" instead of anemic. Redolent of the Latin ae, it makes these words almost kinda glamorous.
Know your astrological sign. Even if you're not into that sort of thing. The immigrations officer asked me if I favored Aries or Pisces more, since I'm on the cusp of these signs, just to see if I knew when my birthday occurred. Luckily, I had looked this up once upon a time, and could more or less coherently answer something about thinking I was more an Aries.
England is as wet as everyone says it is. Or at least, it's rather damp most of the time. I don't think it has actually downpoured yet, but usually a light drizzle can be expected at least daily. This is rather lucky, because  rarely is this particularly uncomfortable. Though the sky seems to be resigned to be permanently oatmeal coloured. On a further discussion of the weather, it is not nearly as cold as it is in the US right now. It seems that my profound fears of freezing before spring arrived were misplaced, touch wood (which is the British way of saying "knock on wood").
I've discovered that even prestigious universities such as Oxford are just as disorganized in some aspects as Mercer is, fancy that! I've been looking for opportunities to get involved in the English equivalent of intramural sport teams, but had some trouble because many of the websites hadn't been updated in the last five years. I did finally get in contact with the Fencing Club and the (ballroom) Dancesport Team, which have both been most welcoming. Especially the Fencing, which has classes just for beginners, like yours truly, who have no prior experience or equipment. I can't help grinning, thinking of having stories about "when I Fenced at OXFORD." How posh is that?
I've also found a church, which is pretty exciting. There are an astronomical number of churches for the size of the town of Oxford. This might be explained by the fact that each of the 20-odd colleges has a chapel, in addition to the various denominations that must be represented. It kinda puts the Bible Belt in the deep south to shame. Wesley Memorial Methodist has quite hooked me. Funny how Methodism is a recurring theme in my religious career. A newly made friend, another OOSC student, brought me to one of the college age activities and it just felt like home. I think making jokes about dividing by zero with some math majors over a game of Smath (scrabble with math, go figure) helped a little. Fantastic to find there are lots of equally nerdy people here. They've also recruited me for the choir, which might be interesting... We'll see how that goes. First practice on Friday. The lady I mentioned my passing interest to nearly squealed when I mumbled something about perhaps wanting to try out for the choir, especially when I mentioned I was a soprano.
Classes are going to be something entirely new. I can honestly say I can't wait until my first formal tutorial on Tuesday. My French tutor is amazing. End of sentence. This professor speaks 20+ languages fluently and she works in a world renown library as her day job. Dr. Susan Halstead has a soft, swift voice that seems to flutter over her sentences, turning them into liquid, not sound.
I've already heard Dr. Jacquie Rawes lecture, and honestly, I was entirely entranced. She gave a lecture on Jacobean Drama, which I've studied in a 380 course with Dr. Richardson. While Dr. Rawes gave an overview of the topic, only an hour for the subject, she thrilled us with the tumultuous tangles of this genre. Revenge, murder, honour. Gotta love it. When I went to her house for the preliminary meeting, we finished talking about her expectations for the course and establishing a list of dramatic works to read, then chatted for another half hour over local theatre. Apparently, her brother is a minor celebrity in stage theatre, having played Scar in The Lion King on West End for a few seasons and the titular role of Macbeth.
And lastly, a brief sketch of my house. I live in a lovely little house, quite comfortable for a young family of about four or five, though there are only three of us here. Emily, a fellow Mercer student, Jack, from Hendrix and myself. Our tiny driveway has a little wooden gate with a rusty latch, leading to a sitting room complete with a set of weights, oddly enough. The kitchen puts Mercer apartments to shame. I have two miniscule fridges, a dishwasher, washing machine (no drier, but a clothesline), and a gas stovetop. Over the kitchen sink one can see the doubledecker buses drive by with loads of tourist. I desperately want to ride one. Through the kitchen, you pass a bedroom on the left, Jack's. We've compared it to a cupboard under the stairs. On the right is a half-bathroom, which I might as well call a toilet, because that's what the English would do. Then the front door, leading to another walkway punctuated by another charmingly pointless gate. The stairs are rickety and steep, I've been warned about climbing them while drunk. Not sure what to think about that advice, but good to keep in mind. The bathroom upstairs is fully equipped with a shower and leftover shampoo and conditioner. Though one must say, plumbers in the US have the right idea. Toilets here are most dispirited and will only give a half-hearted attempt to flush. The shower too, is rather wimpy when it comes to pressure. A short corridor, Emily's room, a spare bedroom, and two linen closets down, is my room. I think the Warners must have given me the biggest room because I'm the youngest on the trip and a girl to boot. I think it might be as big as my bedroom and common room back in Shorter. I have a wardrobe much too big for my one suitcase of clothing, a short dresser and a mirror topped vanity table. My desk is currently cluttered with a sea of books and papers, does that sound familiar Sara Brantley? The bed was a bit of a challenge, very springy, all up and down my spine. Until I stuffed an entire comforter under the sheets; since then, I've no cause to complain. All in all, a very liveable house. I think this is the start of something potentially epic; I'll keep you all posted.