When Chocolate Nests Go Wrong...

Father Christmas usually gets a mince pie for his snack at our house, but this year I figured it would be a nice activity with the littlies to make him something together.

While I was out shopping the other day, I came across some cheap Mini Eggs.  These aren't normally available other than at Easter, so I bought myself a bag to eat.  Then I decided to buy another two bags (£1 each!), to make chocolate nests with my siblings.  The perfect, easy thing to make for Father Christmas!  They have now been renamed "Santa Cakes" by my 3 year old sister.

Christmas Eve was pretty hectic, so we made them on Christmas Eve-Eve.

For those of you who don't know, this is how you make chocolate nests -

100g of coco pops (or rice crispies, but I prefer it with coco pops - even more chocolatey!)
200g of chocolate
Paper cases
Mini Eggs to decorate (optional!)

- Break the chocolate into pieces and melt (we used the microwave, on low in short bursts, but the 'proper' method is to boil water in a pan, and put the chocolate in a bowl over the boiling water)
- Mix the coco pops and melted chocolate together
- Put spoonfuls of mix into the paper cases
- Decorate the cakes with Mini Eggs

This made 20 chocolate nests, but the kids were pretty generous with the mix.

Now.  I'm not the most qualified baker in the world.  At one point I had an entire blog dedicated to my adventures (and disasters) in the kitchen.  For example, my cookies are tasty, but usually turn into one big, monster cookie.

I've had the same problem with fairy cakes too.  The small cakes are Jam Buns, which I'll be making in the next couple of days :)

But really, how far wrong can you go with Chocolate Nests...?

That, my friends, is what we call a "Dr Pepper" question.  If you've not seen the "Dr Pepper, what's the worst that can happen?" adverts - go YouTube them!

The problem with the Chocolate Nests was that I was working with two young children.  By the time they had mixed the chocolate and coco pops together, then scooped it into the bun cases...the chocolate had set.  Here's a photo of them, you can sort of see how crumbly they are -

They didn't notice, of course.  They merrily decorated the cakes and I managed to delay the realisation by saying they couldn't have any until the next day (it was bed-time).

Once they were out of ear-shot, I explained the problem to my Dad.  His view was that we'd probably had it, better luck next time.  I tried Facebook, same opinion.  Disaster!  Luckily, Dad mulled it over for a while, and came up with a solution.  Re-melt the chocolate with a hairdryer.  Genius!

We'd heard about chocolatiers using this method, surely it would work here too?  I borrowed my other sister's hairdryer, set it on a high-ish heat but a low-ish 'blow', and got to work.

Thankfully it worked.  I had to be very careful, and hold the hairdryer quite high up though, since it had a tendency to blow the chocolate nests out of the bun tin!  I did remove the Mini Eggs first, by the way.

For good measure I melted some more chocolate (I had a 100g bar left) and drizzled that on top, then replaced all the Mini Eggs.

The next day my brother was eating one, and exclaimed - "We're GOOD at baking, aren't we?  These are so tasty!  At look at the bottom, it looks like a REAL chocolate nests.  We're like professionals!"

I didn't have the heart to tell him :)

Oh, and Father Christmas loved his Santa Cake!

Princess Lollipop does Church

Princess Lollipop (my 3 year old sister) is very excited for Christmas.  She absolutely "gets it" this year, and is "bouncing off the wall" excited.  The thought of Father Christmas withholding presents based on behaviour has terrified her into submission for a month.  Mostly.  On occasion we've had to remind her to use her "good listening skills", and then she'd cry hysterically, convinced she wasn't going to get any presents.

We also have an "Elf on the Shelf" this year, which initially freaked her out BIG TIME.  We eventually calmed her down, convincing her Figgle (the Elf) was actually a fairy, who was friends with Peter Pan and Tinkerbell.  She was also confined to the downstairs.  Since then Figgle has been a welcome addition to our family.  Lolli has loved seeing what new "viewing place" Figgle has found for herself.  Figgle hasn't played any tricks this year - we figured that would be a step too far.

Today is, of course, Christmas Eve.  Lolli's excitement has hit an all time high, closely followed by Little Prince, my 9 year old brother.  Ooooh boy!

Now, we're not an especially religious family.  We do attend the Christmas Eve Crib Service every year, however.  This year we took an over-excited Princess Lollipop with us.  I had the pleasure of sitting with her.  Ooooh BOY!

We were given a hymn sheet to share.  She took on the task of holding it.  Mostly clutched to her chest so I couldn't see it.  She would occasionally hold it out, waving it in my direction...

Princess Lollipop was quite perplexed by many of the things happening, and asked a lot of questions.  In a stage whisper.  Some examples of our "quiet" conversations -
- "LOOK!  It's Father Christmas!" (That's not Father Christmas, that's Jesus...)
- "Who are Mary and Joseph?" (They were in your school Christmas play, remember?) "Oh yes! They're Jack and Molly."
- "I WANT TO HAVE FIRE!" (Waiting to carry our candles to the nativity scene)
- "Are you going to see the beautiful things I did?" (She carried figurines to the nativity)
- "That's Baby Jesus up there, which one's Baby Jesus?" (The big one, in the middle) "No, it's not!" (He grew up into a man) "No, he can't." (People grow up!) "But I'm bigger than babies" (No, no, Jesus was born 2000 years ago) *laughs hysterically for 5 minutes*

I was regaling my Dad with tales of Lolli at church, so he called her over to ask about it.  This is her version -
- "I saw Jesus on the flat sword" (the cross) "It was Man Jesus, not Baby Jesus"

Have a very merry Christmas everyone!

Update

Well I've been back in the UK for about 2 weeks now, and what a 2 weeks it's been!

I've been to London, York and Folkestone.  I've applied for hundreds of jobs (certainly feels that way anyway).  I've swallowed my pride and signed onto job-seekers.  This means I have the joy of visiting the soul destroying building they refer to as the "Job-Centre".  All those stereotypes about the majority of people on the dole?  They're not exaggerated...

Don't get me wrong, some people there are hard working people who have fallen on hard times.  Like me.  Unfortunately we're in the minority.  Within minutes I find myself choking on the stench of stale cigarettes, my heart rate is through the roof from stress just from being there...and then there's the people.  If you ever wanted to find the meeting place of the world's ugliest people, just come on down to my local job-centre.  I'm not saying I'm a glamorous model, not by any stretch of the imagination, but at least I have all my teeth.

Anyway!  Moving on from my mini bitch-fest.  My blog is a happy place, sadly it's being tainted by the job-centre which is most definitely NOT a happy place.

I'd love to say that I've been travelling about and exploring my home country for pleasure.  I suppose I could say it.  But it'd be a lie and as an unforgettable professor once said - we must not tell lies!

Nope, it's not been anything so fun as that.  Instead, I've been dragging myself to various interviews.  First I went to London to sign up with an agency who seem confident they can find work for me in schools.  The woman was very nice and positive.  I left feeling good about my prospects - always a pleasant feeling.  I didn't spend long in London at all.  I was in and out of the Big City within 4 hours!

Next up was an interview at a boarding school near York (through this agency).  I was collected from the train-station by a chatty woman in a huge mini-bus.  All that bus from little me?  We drove up through the gates into "one of" their car-parks and parked up with the rest of the buses.  If any collection of buses deserved the term "fleet", theirs definitely did!

You may think it's a little sad, that I was this impressed with a car-park.  To be honest, you'd probably be right.  However, it did set a certain precedent for the rest of the school.  Based on this first impression (in a car-park), I expected it to be a grand, sprawling, high class school.

That didn't even begin to cover it.

This place was huge.  It was gorgeous.  It was the epitome of the "lifestyles of the rich and famous".

On my previous wage (as an admin assistant), it would take me 2 and a half years to simply earn the amount of money that these parents spend on one year's school fee.

The pool (for student use only) was possibly the most beautiful pool I've ever seen.  The school has stables to house your pony, or you may borrow a school horse.  There were multiple sports fields, both grass and astro-turf.  There were so many things for these children to do that they didn't do any of them.

To say I was over-whelmed would be an understatement.

It was amazing and everyone was very friendly.  It would be a pleasure to work at a place like that, especially since it's only an hour away from home.  Being able to easily see my family during time off seems rather appealing!  I was supposed to have heard back from them (via the agency) by Tuesday.  It's now Wednesday and I'm still waiting, but so it goes.  Que sera, sera!

Yesterday was a travel-filled day.  I was at the station just after 11am and on my train by 11.45am.  I had to change in London to get to Folkestone, which meant changing stations.  It wasn't too bad though, only Kings Cross to St Pancras.  Soon I was on the Javelin, a high-speed train, watching the south of England zoom by.

Weather-wise it was a miserable day.  I'm pretty sure there was one rain-cloud that covered the entire of the UK!  Luckily I caught a break in the rain at Folkestone and decided to walk to the school.  It was only 10 minutes away (15 after I got a little lost), and I was almost an hour early.  Following the directions on my not-so-trusty phone, I picked my way across pavements and roads, dodging puddles as wide as cars.  I almost got run over more than once as I was mincing about, trying not to get my shoes wet!

I finally found the right street - hurray!  Now to find the right building...not so simple.  I ended up walking past, looking more than a little lost.  Luckily, one of the staff members was watching out for me and came running to my rescue.  Apparently he remembered how difficult it was to find when he first went there.

I was given the grand tour of the school and its three (relatively small) Edwardian buildings.  It was the absolute polar opposite of the other school.  This school is in it's early development stages (read: it doesn't even have "school" status yet).  They've been an established English Language School for several years and is one of several English language schools run by one company.  They're now branching out and are becoming a boarding school, to add to their many "hats".  They will still run as an intensive school for adults and juniors (14-17 year olds), but the boarding school will be alongside that and will offer the whole GCSE and A Level curriculum.

The man who showed me around was very enthusiastic about the entire project.  He gushed a lot about "how often do you get to be part of starting up a school?" and I have to admit, his excitement was contagious.  He told me that the man in charge of the overall business has never shut down a school and he has high hopes for this one.  They have a school in Oxford which is their model for this school, but I was told with bundles of confidence "we're going to do it better!".  Well, who am I to argue with that?

The school was in a bit of uproar, as the brother of the Big Boss Man was visiting and had brought a new agent with him.  This meant that not only did they have to impress Big Boss Man's brother, but his also guest (who would be responsible for bringing more pupils to them).  The headmistress was entirely caught up with her esteemed guests, and I was left to chat with my tour guide.  We nattered away about summer camp, my teaching aspirations, the summer school he works at, and just about everything in between.  We swapped stories of challenging behaviours and giggled over some of the more bizarre experiences we'd had.

After a while, the "other, nicer meeting room" was available, so I was moved into there.  I sat down as he cleared away mugs, expecting that I'd be interviewed by the headmistress or someone similar.  Imagine my surprise when he sits down and announces that he will be interviewing me!  I think it was to my advantage that I didn't know this earlier though, since I'm pretty hopeless at interviews.  At least this way I was able to put forward a good impression before I turned into a babbling buffoon...!

Overall I felt the interview went quite well.  I don't think I rambled too much, some of my answers even made sense!  I just have to wait until next week now to find out.  I think I would greatly enjoy working at this school.  It would be an interesting challenge, and one I will probably never get the opportunity to repeat.  If only it wasn't so far away from home...

That brings me back up to date on my travels, but not even close to everything else I've been up to.

Since I came back, I've been re-writing my dad's website (which will go live as soon as the web-designer gets back off holiday) and running social media profiles for multiple businesses.  The most exciting venture I'm involved in (no disrespect to any of the others) is Ink Pantry Publishing.

Ink Pantry is run by a group of students (myself included) from the Open University's Creative Writing course.  We're working to publish a commemorative anthology of work from the course, and to date we've received 125 submissions.  With another 4 days to go that's spectacular!  We're currently debating titles for the anthology and trying desperately to rein ourselves in from picking images for the cover.  As tempting as it is, it's a bit difficult to chose a picture when we don't have a theme...ah well!  My dad has offered his services as a professional photographer...once we chose a title.

My role at Ink Pantry is to run their blog (whether that's writing posts or co-ordinating the publication of what other people write), their Pinterest and their Google+.  These appear to be the social rejects of our online presence as I largely end up talking to myself, but it keeps me amused!  The blog is far more popular, having generated a lot of interest on Facebook and Twitter.  We have a long list of ideas for posts, as well as several people lined up for interviews.  Upcoming interviews include published writers, illustrators, photographers and OU tutors.  We aim to provide updates on our progress, as well as topics we feel our community of followers will find interesting - so far we've written about book design and writing for the internet.  If there's anything people want to hear about, please drop us a line and I'll get it sorted!

Anyway, that's my marketing bit over and done with (for now).

Later this week I'll be attending a charity event for the Victoria Cross where Chris Ryan (SAS hero turned author) will be talking about his adventures.  Steve Oatway Photography are the official event photographers and we're very excited.  It's going to be very interesting and a whole lot of fun!

Next week I'll be heading over to York with dad.  He's decided he wants to take a day off to take some photos for fun.  Not for a client, not for promotional material, just for fun.  He has no agenda, no plan, just a camera and the whole of York to play with.  I'll be tagging along and will hopefully be writing a travel-related blog post about it soon after.  It's all well and good being a travel writer when you're a tourist abroad, but the real trick is viewing your home from a tourist's perspective too.

I think that's the main things I've been up to since I got home.  The rest of my time has been filled with settling back in, playing with my siblings and catching up with my family.  Not a bad way to spend my time at all!

All the best,
Charlotte

Tuesday, Blood Tuesday

I keep promising myself that I'll catch up with this blog, but life continues to race away from me! I arrived back in the UK yesterday afternoon after a crazy long journey (1 mini-van, 1 bus, 2 planes, 1 car and a whole lot of waiting around). I've been working at a family resort on Lake Champlain, Vermont for 3 weeks which has been good fun but I'm glad to be home. I seem to have escaped jet lag, but am quite sleep deprived all the same.

I decided that I'd get straight into the swing of things by jumping back into my English life with two feet. This meant that I was up and raring to go today at 7.30am (ok, I was awake...mostly). I took my little brother to school this morning, then headed over to my dad's photography gallery, Steve Oatway Photography, to assist on a photo-shoot. The client is Adele Carrington, an author who needs images to use for the book cover and as marketing material. To be honest, the thought of getting to meet an actual author who was publishing an actual book is the only thing that dragged me out of bed this morning!

We were told that the book is about a female vampire, and the image that Adele wanted involved a lot of fake blood and a white background. She would provide the vampire and the blood if we could provide the set.

Mum and I went to Tesco last night to buy a cheap king-size mattress sheet (background) and a kid's paddling pool (to catch the blood...). Fairly innocuous purchases, put to a slightly disturbing task!

After a few false starts, we were able to hang the background onto the crumbling brick wall (picture hooks – a photographer's best friend!). Our photography assistant, Lana, seemed to have a lot of fun decorating the set, though she complained that the blood was sticky and cold!

Just as we were finishing up, in walked Adele with her vampire, who was looking remarkably normal in jeans and a black top. No fangs or gothic dresses to be seen anywhere. Adele later explained that she didn't want to pander to stereotypes, and she had purposefully created a “Romany gypsy vampire” to escape the Hollywood clichés.

We all had a lot of fun on the set, especially giggling over the faces the vampire (Tina, a friend of Adele's) made as she was gradually covered in more and more fake blood. Apparently some of it was peanut butter, and she was quite put out that it was crunchy. I guess smooth peanut butter would have been more acceptable?!

There were several costume changes, liberal amounts of fake blood and a whole lot of laughs. Tina was a great sport and agreed to try almost all suggestions, most of which involved spreading blood across her face and hands! She drew the line at getting any in her hair (thus rejecting the idea of “let's just pour the jar over her head”) since she had a “very important, serious meeting to go to after this!”.

I was sent to the shop to buy some baby wipes (what better way to clean up blood?!) while everyone else had a coffee break.

On my way back, I paused outside our gate to see what it must look like to a passer-by. It was looked amusingly strange, but I suppose it could be worse, right? Somehow...? Though to be honest, I'm more concerned by what the black bin bag full of bloodied sheets and a paddling pool will look like to the bin men...!

In between shots I amused myself by taking some photos of the detail, such as of the vampire's blood-spattered diary and the mason jars full of blood!

All in all, this was a highly entertaining re-introduction into life in England as a photographer's daughter and some time gallery manager. If anyone reading this decides they need photos of vampires, please get in touch – we'd love to repeat this bizarre experience! Any challenge is welcome here.

I can't wait to see what will be thrown my way next, especially if all my upcoming projects involve this much fun.

All the best,

Charlotte

Why I Loved Camp

I know, my posts are all getting out of order!  I've not finished writing about camp and I finished there about a week ago, and I've not finished writing about my travels yet which are also almost over!  I'm sure no-one minds too terribly though.

When I made the decision to apply for summer camp, I wasn't in a particularly "good" place mentally.  That's why I applied.  I needed something to look forward to, something I've always wanted to do, and something "bigger" than myself.  I can now say, with absolute certainty, that it was the right decision.

I spent my summer in the blistering heat, corralling a group of crazy, funny, frustrating little children.  It was like herding cats trying to get those beautiful little monsters to go anywhere.  It was full of late nights and early mornings.  I've never worked so hard in my life and my body is still punishing me for it.  It was mentally, physically and emotionally exhausting.

And I loved it.

I left a job which was pretty good, as far as office jobs go.  The pay was decent, the people were great, my bosses were wonderfully understanding.  It's just...it was all a little meaningless.  I'm sure it meant a lot to the people who we were paying money to, but in the grand scheme of things it was just a little...flat.

Sure the money was considerably better, the hours were significantly shorter and it wasn't as draining.  But it also wasn't as fun, it wasn't as rewarding, and it wasn't as life changing.

For the first time in months, I feel like a whole, confident, happy young woman.

For the first time in years, I feel like myself.

All of that is absolutely down to the friends I made and the children I worked with.  There's something magical about the sweet respect (most of) the children gave to me without question, and the absolute acceptance I found in the mish-mash of people I found myself working with.  Children and counsellors from all walks of life, from a hundred different kinds of backgrounds, we all found a place to call home at camp.

I came to camp hoping to make a difference in the lives of the children.

My confession for this post?  The biggest difference that was made...was in my life.  I never expected how much of a impact they would make on me.  I hope that I made even half as much of an impression on them, as they did on me.

Some days were hard, I'll admit that freely.  I won't pretend it was all fun and games.  Some days, some weeks even, they were such a big handful that they'd reduce me to tears.  Some days the only thing that would get me through would be hugs from understanding counsellors and candy.  Lots of candy.  But the wonderful days made it all worthwhile.  The ones where I really connected with a child.  Where they'd give me a huge hug and ask me why I looked sad.  Where they'd run across the field to say goodbye to me.  Where they'd come back to drop off a sibling and they'd remember me, though I never had them in my class or cabin.  Those days are why I went to camp.  Those are the days that I'll always remember.

Those are the reason I'll come back as many times as I can.

Fail!

I wasn't going to update my blog until my train journey, to keep me entertained during the many, many hours.  However, the epic fail that is my attempts to leave New Orleans needs writing about!

I came here on August 8th for 3 nights, with the intention of leaving at 7am on August 11th.  Simple enough, right?  Well, August 10th came around, and I heard about the Red Dress Run and an art gallery show going on the next day.  This all sounded very interesting, so I stayed another day.

I never did make it to either event, but still enjoyed the day.  Then I tried to book my train out of New Orleans, and found every single train was booked up.  In every direction.  I literally could not leave.

I stayed another night and booked myself onto the train for the next day (13th).  All was good. I was going to go to Baltimore, then Philadelphia, then on to my job in Vermont on the 16th.

I went to bed on the night of the 12th, was checked out, had my taxi booked, and my alarm was set.  All was good.

I woke up at 7.30am in utter horror.  My train had left New Orleans half an hour ago and I was still in bed.  My alarm was set for 5.40PM.  Nooooooooo!

I sheepishly went downstairs and booked myself in another night, and borrowed one of the staff member's phones to ring Amtrak.  They were very nice about it and booked me onto the next train, leaving on the 14th.

Given my multiple failed attempts to go to Baltimore, I decided to take the "hint" and am going straight to Philly.  I'm a little superstitious and am not willing to ignore the potential warning!  Plus then all the rest of my trains and hostels continue to link up.

So here I am, still in New Orleans 5 days after arriving!  I think I'm just not allowed to leave...!

Dreams Do Come True in New Orleans...

I've been in New Orleans for about a day and a half, and I'm absolutely in love with it.

I'm staying in the AAE Bourbon House Hostel, which offers a free shuttle from the airport and train station.  Naturally, that's the point that sold it for me!  I'm paying $19 per night, booked through Hostel World, for a 6 bed, female dorm.  It's in the Garden District and has plenty of bars and places to eat nearby.  The staff are wonderfully friendly and it's overall a really nice hostel.  There's a full kitchen, with a pancake station in the mornings, and a common room with free wifi.  Laundry is $4, once the hostel laundry has been done.  Walmart is a short walk down the street, and there's two fridges (one in the kitchen, which shuts at midnight I think, and one on the patio).  It's also full of British people!  I'd definitely stay here again.

I didn't do much exploring on my first day, as it was about 5pm by the time I was checked in and changed into clean clothes.  Instead I went out for some dinner at a nearby pub (Down the Hatch), recommended by the hostel staff.  It was a pretty dingy looking place outside, but the food was deeeeeelicious.  I had a grilled chicken and mozzarella cheese sandwich (po-boy?) with fries.  They were soooo good!

After that I went back to the hostel, stopping to take photos along the way, and played around on my laptop.  I was exhausted after the long train ride, and ended up in bed by 10.30pm!  Living the high life here in New Orleans...

It wasn't a completely wasted evening, as I did get some planning done for the next day.  I booked myself onto a free walking tour of the Garden District with Free Tours By Foot.  It met at the corner of Washington Avenue and Prytania Street, outside the Lafayette Cemetery.  That was about 20 minutes away from the hostel, but I gave myself about 45 minutes as I have a tendency to get lost.  Not sure how much trouble I could have with the directions "Turn right on Felicity, follow it for 0.5 miles.  Turn left onto Prytania, follow it for 0.5 miles", but I would rather be safe than sorry!  It was a hot day, so I recommend taking a drink.  I also recommend a waterproof jacket...

The tour was about 2 hours long (approximately a mile of walking), and took us around the cemetery to begin with...

...and then along some of the streets (I forget which, sorry!) to show us some of the fancy houses.  The houses were spectacular, and the history involved in them were fascinating.

Side note, the tour guide told us that the house in the final photo above is thought to have been Walt Disney's inspiration for the "look" of the Haunted Mansion ride.  The Disney geek in me loved that!

Not long after these photos were taken, it began to rain.  The tour guide gave us an abridged version of the remainder of the tour as we all got quite wet.  One of the other people on the tour, a lady from The Netherlands, kindly shared her umbrella with me - thank you!  The tour was very much worth it, with a lot of interesting information given...for free!  I wanted to go on the French Quarter tour tomorrow but it's sold out already.

Once it was done, we sheltered under an awning, waiting for the rain to let up a little.

After the rain subsided a little, I headed down the street a few blocks until I reached Magazine Street.  I walked down a ways, stopping to snap a couple of photos of the fire station.

I found a nice looking cafe, Joey K's, and went in for some lunch.  I went for 2 pieces of fried chicken and fries.  The service was fabulous!  They accidentally cooked me chicken tenders, so the waitress brought it out to me, apologised for the mistake and explained that they were cooking my fried chicken but thought I'd probably be hungry, so let me have the hot chicken tenders anyway (wasn't charged for them).  I got french bread while I waited, and free refills of my soda.  The food was lovely, and I definitely recommend them.  They also offered to give me a trash bag for when I was about to go back outside into the rain!  I used my styrofoam take-out box as a rain shelter most of my way home.  Luckily my fried chicken stayed dry!

I was about 20 minutes way from the hostel, and the rain was really coming down.  The closer I got, the worse it was!  I stopped in a petrol station for a few minutes, where I had the full sympathy of the staff and customers.  I also stopped in the doorway of a nice shop, where the sales assistant was busy "documenting this crazy weather" with her rather fancy looking camera. The streets started to flood, with the water coming up level with the sidewalk.  Each time I crossed the road my flip flops were sucked off my feet (leaving me running back to grab them before they floated away!) and the water came up to my ankle and above.  Trash cans were floating away, but the water was too deep for me to want to go and rescue them.  By the time I reached the hostel, I was soaked to the bone and was carrying my flip flops.  They took one look at me and just handed me a towel!  I couldn't have got more wet if I'd jumped in a pool!  It's almost 3 hours later and my hair is still damp.  I'm now curled up on the sofa in my sweat-pants and camp hoodie, not wanting to risk going back outside for a while.  Apparently some places in the area are without power, so I guess we didn't get hit too badly...

There's a hostel bar crawl later tonight that I might go along on, and then tomorrow I'm planning on going to explore the French Quarter.

All in all, I absolutely adore New Orleans and already plan on coming back for Mardi Gras sometime!  It's full of the friendliest, most helpful people I've ever met.  I know there's a high crime rate, but I've seen nothing but good things so far.  Touch wood it stays that way.

Also, I love the fact that there are beads everywhere!  It's like a treasure hunt...

Venturing into the Big Wide Somewhere!

Throughout this summer I've been toying with different travel ideas for when I finished at camp. The destinations changed almost every time, but one thing stayed constant – I wanted to travel by train.

Five years ago, the summer after I turned 18, I travelled around Europe with friends by train. I travel that way a lot in England, but suddenly it took on a whole new romanticism. It was convenient; cheap with a hint of nostalgia. I was hooked.

A week before I was due to leave camp, I applied for further work at a Family Resort in Vermont. Three days before I left Indianapolis, I was hired. This changed my plans slightly, but I hadn't booked anything yet anyway. I would still be given the month to travel after this new contract ended, but I decided to fly straight home. I had always planned to go home at the beginning of September and I didn't want to change that part.

As I had 9 days between camp ending and my new job beginning, I was able to get the best of both worlds. I could meander across the country for those 9 days, then work for the 3 weeks before going home. That way I wouldn't go home utterly penniless but would still get the chance to travel. My intended route was Indianapolis to New Orleans, New Orleans to Charlotte, Charlotte to New York, New York to St Albans.

The day before I left camp, I finally booked my rail pass (15 days, 8 segments), and reserved my first leg of the journey. A bus from Indianapolis to Champaign, then a train from Champaign to New Orleans. Half an hour before I had to leave for the station, I booked my hostel in New Orleans. Nothing like leaving it until the last minute...!

I finally said my reluctant goodbyes. With well wishes, farewells and “stay in touch”s ringing in my ears, we pulled away from The Bubble. Camp has been my home, my life and my comfort blanket for three months now. It was terrifying to be leaving the safety of it's grounds for the Great Wide Somewhere...alone.

One of the staff dropped me at the bus station, and suddenly I was by myself. The thought that the children might have finally driven me mad crossed my mind once or twice. What was I doing?! I'm a 23 year old, tiny young woman, with a suitcase almost as big as me, and a backpack that isn't much smaller. I have no sense of direction, no useable phone (well, I do, but it's extortionate to use abroad), and no real street sense. Why was I about to go on this crazy adventure?

It was too late to turn back now. That's partly why I left everything so late when I booked it all, then I couldn't talk myself out of it and change my mind! Staggering under the weight of my belongings, I headed to the Amtrak ticket office. The woman was very sweet, asking where I was heading, checking I intended to fully use my ticket (I'll use as many segments as I have time for!) and made sure I knew not to lose my rail pass.  (Apologies for it being on it's side, I can't figure out how to rotate the photo!)

Next it was time to board my bus to Champaign. While checking my ticket, the bus driver asked if Champaign was my final destination. When I told him I'd be catching a train to New Orleans, he gave me directions to the train station (get off the bus, go into the terminal, go upstairs). I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe this wouldn't be so terrifying? Americans are renowned for their open, friendly and helpful manner. I started to relax. I wasn't really alone, not in America!

It was slightly surreal to be sat on a coach watching Indiana roll by. As it was a 2 hour, 20 minute journey, I grabbed my blanket and had a much needed nap. Suddenly we were in Champaign and it was time to go. The driver helped me with my suitcase, and reiterated the directions to the train.

As I was about the enter the elevator, I was stopped by a little boy who wanted to know if I was British. This surprised me, until I remembered that my bag has a Union Jack on it. Him and his brother asked me several questions about England, including asking if we used horses instead of cars. I finally excused myself, as their mom was calling them. With many shouted good wishes, and secret smiles from bystanders, they left. Their exuberant, innocent questions brightened my day no end. Definitely a good welcome to Champaign! It's a good job I'm a camp counsellor and am used to being accosted with endless questions from random children!

I found the Amtrak desk and was greeted by wonderfully friendly staff. They offered to check in my luggage (though I had to throw out some toiletries so it fitted the weight limit). Teasingly, they told me that I won that day's Early Bird Award. It was 8 hours until my train! When I mentioned that I was going to find some lunch, they recommended the Seven Saints pub. I've decided to not pass up a recommendation, without good reason. The best way to see a place is through the eyes of its locals. The Seven Saints looked a little seedy on the outside, but inside it was a nice little pub. I chose an unadventurous grilled cheese sandwich and onion rings, but it was utterly delicious. Definitely worth going to and watching the world drive by.

Next I went on the hunt for a book store. The bartender recommended that I go to Jane Addams Book Store, a few blocks away. On my way I found a Fair Trade shop called Ten Thousand Villages. I love Fair Trade shops and couldn't resist going in to browse. I would have bought it all if I could! I settled for a Nepalese bracelet and a Bangladeshi notebook. Sadly, the tiny wooden nativity was out of my budget, and the recycled paper photo-frame wasn't practical enough. Maybe when I'm rich and famous! Or at least when I have more luggage space...

Jane Addams Book Store was a literary heaven. Rows and rows of tall bookshelves. It was a maze of knowledge. Sadly I had to restrain myself here too, and left with empty hands and a heavy heart. I'll have to console myself by adding more books to my Kindle instead.

I was excited to check my watch and see it said 5pm. Only 5 and a half more hours to go! I later realised that my watch was still on Indianapolis time, which was an hour ahead. Alas!

After stopping to admire some city artwork, and having a quick rest on the bench in front of it, I headed back to the station.

Time to regroup and decide what to do next. I googled Downtown Champaign and was a little disappointed to see there was mostly only shopping and eating available. Two things I didn't need to do! It's a lovely, quiet, friendly place but not a sightseeing destination. At least, not downtown.

I sat for a while, writing in my new notebook, then decided to go for another wander around Champaign. While flicking through a magazine in the station I found out there was an art gallery nearby. Despite their website telling me they were open until 7pm, it was closed when I got there at 6pm. Slightly irritated, I walked down a few streets I hadn't been down yet. There were a lot of art related places there, but all were closed. I ended up in a coffee shop, having a chocolate overdose. Chocolate pancakes and chocolate milkshake to eat in, with a chocolate mudslide cookie and pain au chocolat to take away! Feeling slightly sick and already crashing off the sugar high, I went back to the station again.

Feeling bored, and not wanting to play on my laptop because I couldn't find a power outlet, I snuggled down in a corner and had another nap. It had been a long last week at camp and I was very tired. A kind passenger woke me up when they were all leaving for their train. I appreciated them making sure I didn't miss what they thought was my train (nope, three more hours left!). Thank you, whoever you are!

Finally 10.30pm rolled around and it was time to board. The train pulled in and it was, without a doubt, the biggest train I have ever seen. It had an upstairs! I've never seen a train with an upstairs before.

The stairs were very narrow, which I didn't like too much, but upstairs was huge. Our carriage looked like First Class. The seat were huge, with a lot of space in between each row. It was much more comfortable and spacious than I expected. This was a good thing, since to have booked a bed would have cost me an extra $300. The one big negative point for me was the fact there was no WiFi. The bus had it, so why didn't the train? Sulking slightly, I snuggled into my seat and went to sleep.

It wasn't the best night's sleep ever. I woke up a lot, but it wasn't too terrible. After camp, with the camp-outs on a tarp and the tiny bunkbeds in the cabins, I can probably sleep anywhere! I slept on and off for about 12 hours. The final five hours of my trip I alternated between dozing, watching the world fly by, and playing on my laptop. The south is a very pretty place, from what I've seen so far. Quite different to what I'd seen of America before. Other than Florida, which doesn't count, I've never been this far south.

My trip so far has been a wide range of emotions (boredom included) but always exciting. I'm looking forward to seeing New Orleans, even though I don't know what I'll be doing there yet. I was hoping to do some planning on the train, but that was not meant to be. I'm still questioning my sanity, but I'm glad I decided to throw caution to the wind and do it anyway.