Guys, We Have So Much to Discuss

It's a little insane how much I have to blog about. If only work wasn't getting in the way of my excellent storytelling.

Here's the line-up:
1. The Hague/ Class activities
2. OMG I'M 20 YEARS-OLD
3. Paris
4. Brussels/Bruge
5. Amsterdam with Mom and Dad

Let's at least get my international law experience out of the way, shall we?

On the 18th, I attended a hearing at the International Court of Justice, on whether Honduras's application to intervene in the Nicaragua v. Colombia maritime territory. This sounds very cool and impressive, but let's not forget that I missed my train transfer and arrived at the Peace Palace sweaty, breathless, and with a only a minute to spare.

The Hague was more open and less crowded than Amsterdam, which I liked.

It was neat. The judges wore fancy robes with lace. There were the stereotypical wigs that I thought had been retired in like...the 1700s. Because all the expert witnesses and speakers were speaking in different languages, we got head-sets that provided live translation. That was awesome.

I found out that Honduras is not such a fan of Nicaragua. The dialogue was almost mean-girls-esque. There were points where I had to restrain myself from saying, "Oh, snap!"

I also found out that academic types like to repeat the same idea in many different words. At first I was taking notes in a panic, only to realize I was writing the same thing over and over.

So that was that.

OMG, I'm 20.


I turned twenty years old while riding on an overnight bus to Paris. I couldn't sleep, and instead watched blearily as the bright red numbers in the front turned to 0:00. Let me tell you, the 0:00 feels way more dramatic than 12:00. I'll cover the rest of that trip in my upcoming Paris point. Now's the time for freaking out about not being a teenager.

I am the youngest person on my program. Having to inform people that no, it was not my 21st birthday, was a frequent requirement. I know 21 technically means more, but 20 still feels strange. Sure, 18 mean's you're an adult--legally. But it's twenty that removes you from the comfort of teenage stereotypes: a little messy, a little reckless, a little aimless. At twenty years old I feel like future is in view through a foggy bathroom mirror. I see the general outline and recognize what may be there, but it'll take a little effort until I can see it clearly.

At twenty I can wander between extremes of company and loneliness. I can rocket from the embrace, advice, and guidance of family members to the intense anonymity of the crowds of a foreign city. I make youthful mistakes and take deep breaths to handle the consequences like an adult. I have a favorite kind of wine and own my own wrench but also cover my eyes during the surgeries on Grey's Anatomy and dance around my room when no one's around. The last bottle of wine I purchased was also 1.95 euros. So there's that.

But of course I can't say I turned twenty alone. Claire also turned twenty. (I still maintain that for a short while I was older than her...please stop using rational arguments to try and dissuade me of this). Let me wish her a very belated happy birthday. Claire, you are my favorite person on this planet. You can make me laugh harder, feel better, and worry more than anyone. You take care of me in every way. You can force me to put my chin up and give me a slap on the rear, or convince me it's going to be okay. You have more empathy in you than I have ever seen in another person. You're more talented and special than you know, as cheesy and cliche as it sounds.  I love you and there's no one I'd rather share my birthday or parents with. So, stop procrastinating by reading my blog and get back to work. Because I know that's what you're doing.

So far twenty's working out pretty well. Stay tuned for the Paris post.

Futbol!

I'll actually tell you about the game I went to, but since I'm uploading pictures and everything, let me just show you the view the other day from my apartment window.

Okay, back to the point. Tuesday night a bunch of us had tickets to the European Cup qualifier between the Netherlands and Sweden! Taking the metro was ridiculous. You didn't have to hold on to anything because it was so packed you wouldn't move if the train launched into hyper-speed. That didn't damper spirits, though. Oranje and Swedish fans alike were singing loudly together and jumping up and down, making the metro BOUNCE. 

At every seat there was a free little flag that you were supposed to wave when anything happened. Really. Anything. 

We did so enthusiastically. We also did the wave approximately 50 times. 

Then we watched soccer football! 

One of my friends summed up my feelings about this sport quite simply. "All this fuss and excitement, and it's very likely that no one will end of winning." 

But the Oranje did! 4-1!

And then it was over. After 90 minutes of playing time. When you're used to American football games, it was kind of anticlimactic. Like, wait, it's time to go? I'm just getting started!

It was fun. The atmosphere was crazy...borderline unreal. But I gotta say, I'll take Sunday afternoons in the states over Tuesday nights in Europe. That's just me. 

The Good Where You Find It

To counter-balance any lounging by canals in warm sunlight, I crashed my bike on Monday morning. I literally fell back to reality. The reality that I needed a new wheel and some actual tread on my back tire so I could, well, stop. It sucked, but the only real damage was to my ego, the skin on my knee, and the wheel.

I obviously walked into class with a less-than-sunny outlook on life. Nothing like starting off your morning by falling off your bike, damaging it and having to walk the rest of the way. We got our tests and papers back, and I did well. Thank god I did, because if I hadn't I'm pretty sure I would have got up, left, and shut myself in the bathroom for a few hours until I was ready to face the day again.

Now, Barney is fine. He is as mobile and squeaky as ever. I am hoping I am not jinxing myself by saying that. And honestly, I'm just glad I still have him. Two people from my program have had their bikes stolen.

Coming back from class, I bought a pack of stroopwaffels and found a place to watch The West Wing online. Nothing is a better cure than cookies and witty repartee. This needed to happen before I went and got my bike fixed.

I've been incredibly busy. I don't think I've really mentioned this before, but I have ridiculous amounts of work. I know way more about the law of the sea and maritime jurisdiction than I ever wanted to. I also know a lot of statutes regarding self-defense and dog restrictions under California state law thanks to the most random assignment ever (thanks, comparative law seminar! You're the best!). I'm also spending a lot of time at the boathouse, whether rowing or completing our off-water workouts. Seeing as spending time there takes about 40 minutes of bike ride each way, it eats up a lot of time.

Things are good. They really are. I mean, honestly, this is the experience of a lifetime. But that in itself can't stave off all flickers of homesickness. And today, on a cloudy, chilly day in Amsterdam in which I'm supposed to read a case entitled the Fisheries Jurisdiction Case (UK v. Iceland), I would much rather be at home next to a wood stove with my family or having brunch with my Maryland girls or running around with the team and roommates in Ithaca.

And I don't care if I sound like a tea-party member when I say it, but I would just like to go one single day in which I understand every word spoken to me. Or around me. I am just tired.

I realize that in light of my last post, this may seem sudden. But it's just normal. You have your days, and take the good where you find it, shrug the bad off your shoulders, and mark on your calendar the day you'll see the people you so dearly miss.

Lazy Sunday

The weather was so nice today. The nicest it has been since we all got here. It was 70 degrees, sunny, with a nice breeze.

I almost just slipped into radio mode there. "It is 39 degrees on Ithaca's South Hill. With ICB News..."

Anyway, I woke up in the morning to sun (I know! Revolutionary!) and headed out for a run. I decided to forgo my usual route and just went and went and went. I ran over and under bridges, around churches, on winding roads and under the cover of trees (trees! In the city!). Then, without really planning it, I stopped.

I found my bench and laid next to a canal that is just lower than the road and blocked from the hustle of the city. Boats would putter by occasionally, but mostly it was just the swans, ducks, and me. Laying there with my eyes closed, I could have tricked myself into believing I was at the lake back home. But then I realized--it doesn't have to be the lake back home to be good. It's worthy of its own moment and beauty and doesn't need nostalgia to be great.

So I just took it all in. I later headed out to a waterfront cafe with a few friends and we sat outside, splurging on lattes and time without work. Now, I've got a paper to finish about the ICC's role in "enforcement" of the convention with respect to the treatment of prisoners of war. It really is the best conclusion to a nearly idyllic Sunday.

In other news, I just booked my last trip...Barcelona in December! (Thanks to Uncle Judd and Aunt Michelle, my birthday gift just got me a flight to SPAIN!)