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.