Their women toil incessantly.

I am not actually going to speak about anything related to my title of this post really, I just thought it was an interesting little line. An eye-catcher, if you will.

The thing I love about studying history and literature and the fabulous combination that makes hust HUST is trying to really get myself into the story or the time period. I love to imagine what the world of the author was really like. In the case of Relacion I thought about the men trudging around what is now Galveston, walking through swamps and sand, and feeling the burn of too many kisses from the sun. And then I thought about what that was really like. There weren't any condos or beach huts where the men could retire. They couldn't go to the local chemist (that's an internship in Britain for ya) to stock up on sunblock and aloe vera. There wasn't a Payless Shoes in sight. I then thought of Prof. Donahue's comment about being able to fly from one spot in the U.S. to another and still have many things in common with the people on the other coast, like the same language and tv shows. This was of course not at all true in the case of Nunez Cabeza de Vaca. Not only were the different "indigenous" tribes each unique, but even the Christianized Europeans were very different kinds of people (at least in this account). I'm not really sure where I'm going with this, other than saying that I really like trying to figure out what it was like to live in a world without the internet and television and magazines and newspapers and airplanes and interstates and starbucks and wal mart...

Just for fun
The term "indian" in the text reminded me of a very heated argument I had with my brother when I was still in the barbie phase. My brother and I got into a fight about whether my Pocahontus doll was Indian or Native American. It's a funny story, but it of course leads to a question. Why, after finding out that "indians" are not Indian, did the term stick for so long?

So basically

Y'all have been giving updates on your summers and I did not provide you the entertainment you so rightly deserve with stories of my summer. Here's what you need to know:

BEST time of my life working at Simon & Schuster. Best co-workers imaginable, lovely city, and truly good food (scratch what you heard, London and Britain do have tasty plates). I absolutely loved my workweeks at S&S and walking around the city after work. I also loved my weekends when I would hop a train to the countryside or a flight to the highlands (shout-out to the homeland) and spend hours wandering a city or a countryside with "trails"- which I found out were not trails at all but mere suggestions at some points in time...

WORST date of my life. His name was David and he was a cell-biologist from Kensington. I think that's sufficient.

LOVED pretty much everything about my experience in London except for my room that had absolutely no ventilation on the 16th floor. I also loved hanging out with Rachel Piontek, a poli-sci and religious studies major from SMC. I think we can both agree that our very long day at Wimbledon was the best day of our lives.

I have no way of summing up my experience on this blog and it's making me dizzy anyway so we'll talk later about my time in WC1X 8HB.
That's me in the editorial library at S&S. Photo credit- Rory Scarfe. All I have to say is that when he took my pictures he always said "ehh" and squished his face around. He was of course very kind when he said it wasn't that I took a bad picture, but that he is a bad photographer. Thanks, Rory, my self-esteem is sky high.