Tag Archives: International House

living the international (house) life!

1 Oct
Showing you my preparing for Sunday Supper, amateur techie style

Showing you my preparation for Sunday Supper, amateur techie style

Somewhere between my tiny little room at I-House, the New York City subway system and ten thousand assignments, I have had almost no time to do a blog update, which I find terribly sad.

Not that I have much of a real clue of who’s reading. HELLO? IS ANYONE OUT THERE? CAN YOU AT LEAST LEAVE A COMMENT?

(Not directed at those who have commented, you guys are super!)

Though I wasn’t able to post an update, I was able to grab a midnight interview outside a jazz club in the Harlem’s famed Sugar Hill, visit the Apollo, go upstate for a leadership retreat, cover a murder on the Upper West Side, speak to Mrs Astor’s private librarian, cover bullying at a bilingual school in Crown Heights, suffer five painful drills under the hands of our masochistic lecturers, and go to the gym. OK. Only twice.

Even though I wanted to be anti-social through all the chaos, I couldn’t be. I-House is filled to capacity with hundreds of events that even though inside you doth protest, you have to attend. A) Because they generally have free food, and B) Because this is substitute family!

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what i have learnt so far

18 Aug
Franz, Alison, Jax and Katya strike a pose at the Dean's Reception

Franz, Alison, Jax and Katya strike a pose at the Dean's Reception

It’s 2am at the Beauty Bar in East Village, and I’m contemplating getting my nails done for $10 at the manicurist’s table next to the bar – it will include a free drink, which almost makes it impossible to resist. But the pull of the dancefloor brings me to my senses and all too soon it’s time to head off home, packed in a taxi with the Germans and Luis, home to my teensy little room and our 9th floor terrace that looks over the world.

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home sweet … room?

5 Aug

Two trains, one bus ride, one taxi ride, two planes and almost 24 hours in transit later, I arrived in New York at about 8pm local time last night (2am Swiss time, which I am still on). Driving over Brooklyn Bridge with a craaaazzzyyy taxi driver, I couldn’t help laughing and feeling a thrill inside (or was that actually a shot of adrenalin caused by the thought of impending death by taxi crash?)

The thrill soon dissapated as the jet lag really set in – I am still feeling it now, a day later – a feeling that somehow, your body and mind are literally dragging behind you in another time zone.

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