Blooming Hyacinth

My room these past few days has been filled with the sweet, fruity scent of my blooming hyacinth. Even Emma next door can smell it, and the hall is taking on a new, fresh aura. At night, I like to light my two candles, set the flowers on the floor beside me, and read some of the books of poetry I got from the public library here--it's a great way to pass an evening alone.

Or, for evenings not spent alone, there is a fair amount to do in town (for instance, 365 establishments of drinking--one for every day of the year?). This past Friday, John and I went to the apartment of some international students, where some girls from Norway filled us up with pizza after pizza. Apparently, the Norwegian method of eating pizza involves copious amounts of ketchup squirted onto the finished product. I tried this tactic once, and I'll admit, it wasn't as strange as I expected, but I still decided that it wasn't quite for me. There were some students from France and Spain there, as well, and it was nice to be able to meet such a variety of people. One of the Norwegian girls' banker-boyfriend was coming up from London, so we all walked down to the city center and spent some time at a posh nightclub full of young professionals sipping martinis with their legs crossed. We all felt a bit under-dressed, but the Norwegians turned out to be make quite good partners in conversation and crime (on the dance floor, I mean). Enough so that John is now set on adding Bergen, Norway to our already concentrated Easter Break itinerary... it would be nice to see those fjords...

Saturday our group from Calvin went on our rescheduled tour of Roman York. Our tour guide turned out to be an eccentric but brilliant middle-aged man, somewhat of a cross between Johnny Depp and a fan of death metal. His outfit was all black, except for purple shoestrings on his leather boots. He wore a long trench-coat over a snazzy vest, with chrome pendants and a pocket watch chain draping from one vest pocket to the other. Over the course of two freezing cold hours, he led us along the Roman portions of the city walls and into a couple fortresses and ruins, ending near some Roman coffins and a statue of Constantine. The entire time, walking or standing still, he spouted off information about dates and locations, archaeological finds, and bizarre trivia and anecdotes (for example, Romans mixed bull's blood into the concrete of their walls and Roman soldiers sometimes wore wind chimes dangling from their crotches to fend off evil). His progression seemed to be just as much haphazard recall and stream-of-consciousness babbling as well-rehearsed speech material. A few times he nearly struck passers-by with a sudden over-excited flailing gesture intended to emphasize a point he was making about the strangeness of Roman military uniform. Between these types of antics and his constant fidgeting with his water bottle, the tour was the combination of a highly-informative educational experience and a bizarre circus spectacle. John and I considered following this character home, or trying to get him to come hang out with us for the evening, but at the last minute we kind of chickened out. Maybe next time.