Movember!

Yes, it is officially the last day of Movember. What a fantastic month. Not to long before the month started I looked like the clean-shaven, hair-mop kid smiling in front the Guinness brewery below.



I ended looking not incredibly unlike a dodgy creeper, who found himself smoking a cigar (the 2nd of my life, and perhaps not the best decision on a windy day in Paris-similar effects to spitting against the wind) from the gazebo atop the crags of Buttes Chaumont in Paris. It'll be a long time before the 3rd happens, but hey, it looks pretty rugged.



Highlights of movember include, but are not limited to:

Traveling to Vienna and Bratislava. Sitting atop the castle where Richard the Lionheart was held captive was exhilarating. View from the top.



Being visited by Travis and Jesse in London, and having a blast exploring what has become my favorite city in the whole world. The resurrection of the three-man pole extravaganza HAPPENED in front of Big Ben, Parliament, and a double-decker bus.



Winning our 2nd football game against South Bank University and making a few tackles in it and a fumble-recovery. I was so intimidated in our first game, but I think I'm conquering some of my fears. Incidentally, I played that inspired game right after watching the Lion King the night before. I think I picked up some life lessons from Simba.

Visiting Jesse in Edinburgh. While there, I got a personalized tour of Parliament, ate a fried Mars bar, tasted Scotch (not bad!), climbed Arthur's seat, played lots and LOTS of hearts, and watched Scotland take down the springboks. Me leaping onto the unsuspecting city of Edinburgh.



This past weekend I went to Paris. What a gorgeous city. I think Paris ranks 2nd among my favorite European cities. The Louvre was absolutely fantastic-hands down the best museum that I've seen. The Eiffel tower was as fantastic as always. Shakespeare & Company was positively enchanting. Walking through the Jardins de Tuileries with snow falling made my heart want to sing and dance at the same time. Buying nutella crepes at 1 AM by the Moulin Rouge with Jesse was unforgettable. Freezing outside the Pantheon with Brandon and Alex for over an hour unified three men even if only in our bitterness towards certain late people who caused our great pain and suffering. Praying in the Sacré Coeur and seeing Jesus honored was phenomenal. Seeing Pat over chocolat viennois and pain au chocolat and getting to talk over life healed my heart to a great extent and opened my eyes.

My favorite statue in the Louvre, Antonio Canova's Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss. Made all the more alive to me by C.S. Lewis's Till We Have Faces.



No caption needed for this one, eh?



Captured above one of the doorways in Shakespeare & Company, reputedly Paris's oldest bookshop, this slogan of Biblical origin sums up a lesson I learned this month-God means for us to love every single person we come across. I went to Paris with a motley crew, and oftentimes group travel tires me out, but at the end of the four days with those kids, I mentally remarked to myself that I loved spending time with each and every one of them.

To steal a Kushism: stay intense!

Two Weeks in Review

There's been quite a few days since I've last posted. A quick synopsis of the travels of the past few weeks:

York: I went to York with USC, and had a fantastic time exploring the old city walls, the neighboring ruins, York minster, and an old bookshop where I purchased Eliot's 'The Four Quartets.'

Dublin: I traveled with two friends, one from USC, and one who I have classes with here at King's. The city itself wasn't one of my favorites, but we took a day trip through the countryside, and I was enthralled by the raw, harsh, late-autumn beauty of the Irish countryside. We stopped at a 5th century monastery, which may have been my favorite destination throughout the trip. Also notable are the Chester Beatty Library with fantastic 3rd-century papyrus manuscripts of the Bible and the National Gallery of Ireland. The small coastal city of Dalkey was also quite charming.

Last night, I went over to the Snellers and had some of the most engaging conversation I've had in a while with some Brits who explained how the UK views the US, while we explained the vice versa. One of the most profound lessons I will take away is that the Brits have a long list of things they don't like, but America isn't necessarily on it. Good to know.

Looking ahead to the next week:
Football season opener on Sunday!! I hope to be starting at CB, and hopefully getting some time at WR. I've never played in full pads, and I'm excited to finally get a chance to play in a league where I'm not entirely undersized.

Monday morning I leave for Bratislava and spend a day there before bussing over to Vienna, after which I return back to Bratislava for a weekend back in London.

Some pictures of my adventures so far.

An 13th century priory on the coast of England, just outside of Newcastle.


The foreground shows the excavations of Hadrian's wall within a few meters of its Eastern end. The replica in the background shows what a fully intact version would have looked like. I think there are several more feet of wall underneath the ground, but excavations have been going slowly.


Remains of a Norman-era abbey (11th century), outside of York.


The monument in the main square of Trinity College, Dublin.


Christ Church, Dublin.


St. Stephen's Green, Dublin. One of the most beautiful parks I've been to yet. This vividly captures the rustic, Irish beauty.

Brief Update

Last weekend, I traveled up to Newcastle to spend a wonderful few days with some fellow Trojans. The main highlight of the weekend was getting to see my long-lost roommate Jesse, getting to catch up over a pint of cider, and exploring the rape-trails, stone henges, arc de triomphs, the rainbow bridge, and the other fantastic Newcastle edifices at night. We sported £8-Newcastle United jerseys to one of their premier league games, and watched them snag a thrilling come from behind draw in the 93rd minute. We got to watch 'the world's longest play' (Antony and Cleopatra) being performed by the Royal Shakespeare Company.

The next day after the rest of the USC students left, I took a lone-ranger journey out to the coast of England and walked through the ruins of a 13th century priory that was surrounded by a quaint town that was hosting a farmer's market (with legit farmers, mind you). I then stopped by the excavated ruins of a Roman fort, and a small portion of Hadrian's wall. There wasn't much left of either, but just seeing the foundations of the fort and the wall stirred my imagination to envisage the small Roman garrison constantly watching the hills to the north for signs of the barbaric Scots.

The past week has gone by in a blur with plenty of reading (Chesterton, McGrath, papers on Schumann's symphonies, original texts by Wagner, papers on Indian healthcare... the list goes on). Football has got me more and more excited has our first match comes in just two weeks from this Sunday! I'm playing wide receiver and loving every minute of it. I get my helmet and jersey this Sunday, and I can't wait to don them and start hitting people.

Well, I must be off. Tomorrow I head out to York on another all-expenses paid trip by USC (I love USC-I've had two pints of cider, six meals, three plays, and soon to be two weekends all on the school bill!). Fight on!

Blessed

Blessed. Not the single-syllable, rolling-of-your-tongue, flippant 'blessed' as in 'you're blessed to have a Wal-mart within walking distance' but the two-syllable, slightly awkward sounding 'BLESS-ed' as in 'We are the blessed, being privileged by knowing God's love.'

I think that word would have to describe my past few days. From going to the horse races at Ascot with my mom, younger brother, and friends from USC to being able to stand in an operating room and watch a lymphoma biopsy to joining the football team here and getting to take guys down and get taken down, I have been very blessed. Today, I lay down on a bench in the sun, propped my feet up and read about patient-doctor ethics for an hour.

There's something intensely therapeutic about studying here. To start with, I'm not quite as frenetic with scheduling things here. Currently, I'm only involved in a Christian group and the football team. I love both and am excited to get a chance to meet people and make good friends in both. It's amazing how much peace you begin to feel when you have time in which you can pursue the passions of your heart.

Quick recap of the past few days:
Saturday: Horse racing-picked up £8 on Dux Scholar and Pausanias. Good horse names whatever they mean. Had amazing fish and chips that night.

Sunday: Football practice! Some great runs and got hit a few times. Church was fun. Said goodbye to Johnny and mom :(

Monday: Went to see a lymphoma biopsy, met with the Student Life (cru) staff leader and did some sharing on campus-which turned out amazingly! 1/2 off food at the slug and lettuce pub-wonderful Chicken Tikka for a pub.

Tuesday: Had lots of lecture on cancer, which was fascinating. Went on a Tesco shopping spree, had pub quiz night (I won a pack of giant playing cards!), and watched the first half of City of Angels with some friends.

I'm amazingly tired, so I'm going to get to bed now so I'm rested for 5 hrs of lecture and football practice!

Give me something sacred

The last few weeks since I arrived here in the UK have been absolutely bizarre. They have been challenging, but oh so stimulating.

To be honest, I often feel very lost here, though I've never been late to anything because I've had trouble finding a location. So much of my life has been changed ever since I came here. Something deep in my soul wants to turn and run. I've heard numerous analogies about building up walls around one's heart, and those ring true, but the desire to clam up that I felt was more organic. It's like the natural overgrowth that will consume a garden if it's not carefully manicured. It's a suffocating aura, and I've felt it's cloak hover over me more than once in recent days. I wonder if this wish to hide is in any way related to Adam and Eve's urge to cover themselves with fig leaves after they sinned. They felt adulterated and unwhole, as if who they were was something shameful. Who they were is not shameful, but what they did was. At this point in my life, I oft struggle with knowing that God loves me as a person and that that fact should be more than enough to give me joy every day. As Tim Chaddick's Reality sermon titled 'The Infinite Value of God' says, God is the most valuable thing we could ever know, and once we find that we should know that we have his riches.

These identity battles have plagued me before when big changes have come in my life, and I ask that God would help show me his rock solid truth in his time.

Sunday, I strolled through the spires of Oxford under a pristine blue sky that quickly ferried clouds from horizon to horizon. We stopped by the church were C.S. Lewis attended and took pictures with the fabled lampost that inspired the Narnian landmark. On the drive back to London, grey clouds dotted the sky in an almost evenly-space, yet still irregular pattern. The sun pierced though the lattice to cast shadows on rolling hillsides covered in green patchworks.

Last night, I listened to Needtobreathe sing over an hour of beautiful music. I don't know their new album very well, but their lyrics, passion, and music created an intoxicating mix. I'm a trained musician, but the love of music that permeated my life in my late high school years has been fading for several years and has been altogether absent for the past few months. Somehow the concert revived a part of me. I miss being the passionate person I used to be, not because I want to go back and re-live those green dock-light memories, but because those memories remind me of the passion that feels like my own sacred soul-secret.

Today, I raced with my brother down the Greenwich slopes that overlook London. We laughed and yelled and almost fell more than once in the soft mud. Some of the summer garb of the neat rows of trees graced the geometric network of footpaths that we had temporarily strayed from. The splotchy tufts of grass on the hillside formed a confluence with a thick green carpet as we reached the bottom. I wanted to lie and roll in it, but the knowledge of the mud that lay underneath the surface and the potential damage it could do to my new jacket kept me from indulging my whim.

Here, I've felt homesick and very at home at the same time. I can't nearly describe the sentiment, but I think some of it relates to these words of C.S. Lewis that were read by the Vicar in Oxford.

"In speaking of this desire for our own faroff country, which we find in ourselves even now, I feel a certain shyness. I am almost committing an indecency. I am trying to rip open the inconsolable secret in each one of you—the secret which hurts so much that you take your revenge on it by calling it names like Nostalgia and Romanticism and Adolescence; the secret also which pierces with such sweetness that when, in very intimate conversation, the mention of it becomes imminent, we grow awkward and affect to laugh at ourselves; the secret we cannot hide and cannot tell, though we desire to do both. We cannot tell it because it is a desire for something that has never actually appeared in our experience. We cannot hide it because our experience is constantly suggesting it, and we betray ourselves like lovers at the mention of a name. Our commonest expedient is to call it beauty and behave as if that had settled the matter. Wordsworth’s expedient was to identify it with certain moments in his own past. But all this is a cheat. If Wordsworth had gone back to those moments in the past, he would not have found the thing itself, but only the reminder of it; what he remembered would turn out to be itself a remembering. The books or the music in which we thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust to them; it was not in them, it only came through them, and what came through them was longing. These things—the beauty, the memory of our own past—are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshippers. For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited." -The Weight of Glory

I seek that ultimate density that sinks through all other aspects of my life, that other-worldly material that cleaves through my spirit, that fire that burns away the flesh wrapped around my heart, that truth that catches our frantically cast anchors and never lets go.


Hey now, this is my desire
Consume me like a fire, 'cause I just want something beautiful
To touch me, I know that I'm in reach
'Cause I am down on my knees, I'm waiting for something beautiful
Oh, something beautiful

-Something Beautiful, Needtobreathe

A Magical City

Every place you visit has a certain quality. You may not put your finger on it right away, but give it some time and thought and eventually something will jump out at you like whack-a-gopher creatures. For me, Los Angeles is a city that begs for exploration. Switzerland is my epitome of raw beauty: alpine-climbing, family-loving, champagne-drinking, landscape-photographing beauty. Orlando is a city of a charm that never fails to make me look inside myself. Two weeks into my stay here, I can say that without a doubt, London is a city of magic.

Two days ago, I went to Covent Gardens to meet a good friend who shared two years at USC with me. Standing beside her was a girl I never met before. When she introduced herself to me, her last name caught my attention. It was the same last name as a family that my dad's co-worker had told me to look for in London. The co-worker had lived in Swaziland for 30 years, and the family she referred had spent a large portion of those years with her. So on a whim, I asked the girl standing in front of me if she was the 'so-and-so's who used to live in Swaziland. She was. 'Only in London...' I muttered to myself.

Finding someone in a room of people is not always easy if you only have a surname to go by. It becomes slightly more difficult when the pool of people is expanded to a metropolis of over 7 million and you have no way to contact them. Only in London would those odds be spited and a fellow Trojan be hanging out with a girl she met at a conference in South Korea who also happened to be the daughter of a family that used to live in Swaziland with my dad's co-worker. Only in London would you eat lunch at your vicar's house, and then realize that they are old family friends with yet another USC Trojan classmate that you baked 6 pumpkin pies with in one night (a sure sign of strong friendship). Only in London could you sit down to chat with your friend in a church courtyard, check the posting on the church's door and discover that Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury and one of the world's leading religious figures, was lecturing inside. And where else could you nonchalantly step inside a church that took your fancy as you walked through the city and find the burial site of John Newton, the writer of 'Amazing Grace' and one of my personal childhood heroes?

In other cities you might get email addresses to make those connections, or look up lecture series to find Rowan Williams, or search for John Newton's bones. In London, these things happen to you.

End of the first week in London, beginning of the first week of classes

The past three days have been marked by two words: pain and starvation.

Let me begin with Saturday. Saturday morning I woke up bright and early to make a skype call back home, and then I rushed to shower and throw together a small breakfast before football (soccer) tryouts. We were supposed to meet for the tryouts at 12, and my friends and I arrived a little early. I don't know who told us to meet at twelve, but we ended up sitting around for 45 minutes or so, while the captains joked around and showed off their BA cars (for these UK student football captains, that apparently means a car the size of a Honda Insight with beat up rims). Then we went to the field and warmed up for another 45 minutes while the captains who were late took their time showing up. Then we played football for a solid 4 hours. I thought we'd be done by 3, but I didn't leave the field until 5. Needless to say, I was starving by that point.

That night I had a hearty meal with the good old dub-J (B.J.) from 'SC at the hard rock cafe, and then we walked around near Harrod's and Hyde park on my sore legs.

Thinking I had not made the football (soccer) team that day (there were plenty of better players than me) I decided to go to the american football team practice the next morning, so again I woke up early and joined their crew. We started at 10, and so again I scarfed down a quick breakfast thinking I would be able to tide myself over until practice ended, which I surmised should be around noon. We were quickly whipped into shape by an American coach wearing a USC sports jacket (fight on!). More than one kid doubled over and puked on the field. I've played football since I was a little kid, but I never knew how much technique and strategy went into each position-I had a blast learning all about the different positions.

I ended up actually making the football (soccer) team as far as what I can tell from the not-very-informative text I received from one of the lower division captains, so now I have to decide between the two sports. Playing football would be a blast in the UK, but playing american football in full pads and getting to knock people flat would also be ridiculous fun. Hard life choice here.

Today was my first class. Lots of music geeks discussed how we enjoy music and what features make it interesting to us. My science-major-self kept quiet and enjoyed listening. I'll have to do some background reading before I start piping up to join the ranks of the intense musicians. After class I chatted with Chris (Agape staff here), and I then went over to Piccadilly circus to get some much needed athletic pants (vs. shorts), and a decently warm jacket that wasn't the size of an eskimo's parka. I found a jacket at a 3-story H&M after much deliberation, and a lot of my decision on the particular jacket was based on what they did and didn't have my size in. After taking some back streets to see Handel's house (which was closed, but still cool to see), I walked back by that H&M only to discover another massive, 3-story H&M half a block from the first one. Apparently somebody missed something when H&M was planning out their locations. I decided against going in and seeing what sizes the second mega-H&M had available because I am not a shopping fan, and I had already spent almost 2 hours walking and shopping. Bleh.

Tomorrow is my biology of cancer class. My lecture theater is glass-paneled and sits atop a 30-story hospital. Be jealous. Very jealous.

A London Whirlwind!

Well, quite a bit has happened in the past few days.

Of biggest importance to me is the fact that I went to ASDA (Wal-mart owned, that says it all) and purchased L18 of food. I am no longer perpetually starving-just occasionally, because now I can stop the hunger when it sets in. Currently I'm finishing off a microwaveable chicken/bacon pasty that makes my 3rd meal of the day (yes, it is 12:30 am).

Tuesday, I went out with the Christian Union and had great fun learning how to joust. I defeated my first opponent (a slightly taller guy than me). Emboldened by my success, I was preparing an impregnable strategy that would make me undefeated throughout the rest of the matches when a short asian girl killed me in the very next round. Maybe I shouldn't count my eggs before they hatch. After that we went to Nando's, a portuguese chicken eatery. I boasted to the kids around the table that I would choose the extra hot sauce. They warned me to re-consider, and I decided to just go with the hot. That'd be impressive enough since they had ordered medium at the highest. Hot should be a piece of cake-after all, if the fair-skinned Brits can handle medium, my swarthy half-Indian self should be able to saturate myself with the hot sauce. Or not. I had to go back for a refill on the water half way through my chicken wrap. Danielle, the blond British girl beside me, smiled smugly and told me that she warned me. I guess if I wanted to play with fire, I should have known I risked getting burned. And humiliated. :)

Wednesday I played football for almost three hours. I LOVED it. I'm not quite as good as a lot of them, but I can hold my own. They play with tons of quick passes, and soon I was making a few assists for our team. Tomorrow are tryouts. I already have a back-up plan if I don't make it on the football team. I'm going to try out for american football. yes, you heard me correctly. All 130 pounds of me will try out for the American football team here. They just started two years ago, and they don't have a lot of players. Plus, all the players I saw couldn't have been more than 20 pounds heavier than me. I figure that if I ever want to play legit pigskin football with helmets and pads, my chance is now-where all the big guys first go to play rugby.

Wednesday night I went out with a friend from home to tour the Inns of Court. I have to say that the Brits have a sweet educational set-up for their lawyers. We visited the Maughan Library. Google image it. How cool is that? It happens to be my school library-I feel like a super spoiled kid. We also hung out in the courtyard of the church whose steeple modeled the idea of wedding cakes (it's called St. Bride's church, go figure). We were chatting it up in the courtyard while Rowan Williams was lecturing inside. No biggie in London. I walked home that night, and got some killer pictures of St. Paul's Cathedral from the Millenium Bridge, except they were a bit blurry. Unfortunately I can't upload them at the moment.

Thursday, I went over to dinner at the Sneller's house. Can I say that I love their four kids? They showed me all their star wars legos and their nerf guns. Anna, the 3-year-old, showed me how I could be shot with a nerf gun.

Today, I went to the Globe Theatre on a whim (I went by myself), and got to see "The Merry Wives of Windsor" for L5. Not a bad deal! I laughed my head off. It was witty, clever, and also meaningful. I'm glad I got to see it before the open air theatre shuts down for the winter. Tonight I went to the Malaysian fair in Trafalgar Square with some friends from Singapore and tried their food. Quite tasty actually. Then I went with some awesome french horn buddies (you know you're cool when you have pals who play the french horn) to a concert at St. Martin in the Fields of Vivaldi's Four Seasons and Gloria. What an amazing concert! I really enjoyed the Gloria since I had the joy of playing the cello part many years ago. We grabbed some tea from the Malaysian Fair (good stuff, just like Indian chai), and then headed to the Texas Embassy (it's actually just a restaurant, but a legit Texas Embassy did exist in London at one time, google it if you don't believe me).

Now I'm back at home enjoying my chicken/bacon pasty and getting ready to head to bed so I can not embarrass America too much at the football tryouts tomorrow.

Pray for guidance in some life issues I'm contemplating at the moment and humility. Also play that I won't scare away the kids at the Sunday night youth group where I'll be playing guitar.

-Cheers!

Mid-Freshers Week

What does 'fresher' mean? In the States, one would answer by saying, 'an adjective describing the quality of being more fresh, i.e., being more recently grown, born, said, felt, etc.' Here 'fresher' has a similar meaning but is actually treated as a noun and signifies 'the verdant sapling of a first-year student who waters his roots with much alcohol and fertilizes it with drugs (and who does so as a social activity with other young saplings).' Such is the life of a fresher-or at least from what I've seen of it.

Fresher week is actually not that bad. I've had a lot of fun learning how to be a freshman all over again and have the favorite, 'what do you study,' 'where are you from,' 'where do you live' conversations. I should stop being sarcastic. I started this paragraph trying to explain how it wasn't bad, and the next sentence was dripping with sarcasm about how bad it actually was. Back to fresher week not being bad. I've enjoyed meeting lots of new people-it's incredibly how many people you can meet when everyone is still making friends. And the drinking isn't too ridiculous for most people, I did exaggerate the previous paragraph a bit to round out the sapling metaphor. Most people here (especially the few Christians I've met!) are sensible about drinking and don't get drunk. I tried some cider (mildly alcoholic) the other day. Tastes just like the sparkling apple juice we drink on New Years.

I had a blast with the Snellers, the family with Agape (CCC in the States), who are working with Agape at King's College. Their four kids are hilarious, and their church is great! I look forward to an amazing semester working with them to spread the gospel at KCL. I went to the Christian Union (Intervarsity in the States) meeting today, and thoroughly enjoyed meeting some other Christians who live near me! I feel like it would be hard to live a firm Christian walk here as a Fresher just starting college, but it was awesome to meet some Brits who did.

Word of the day is 'manky' meaning 'ghetto.'

I had just under a 2 hour break today, so I walked from school to the British History Museum. Right on the ground floor, the first thing I bumped into was the Rosetta Stone.

I nearly fell over backwards. In all the pictures, it gives the impression of being the size of the tablets that Charlton Heston holds in "The Ten Commandments", but this thing is almost 4 feet tall, and over 2 feet across. I was impressed.

Some of the other highlights are seeing the humongous Pharoah head and fist (the fist reminds me of that poster of Travis and I). It's gargantuan. I'm currently reading Chesterton's, "Everlasting Man" and he talks about the genius of the Egyptian civilization. No wonder. I have to say that people back then could make far more impressive sculptures than what we make today.

The lady below also fascinated me. She was the work of a Roman artist from the 3rd-4th century A.D., if I remember correctly. Some lucky wanderer unearthed the thing in the late 1700s just like that. Would you believe it? It looks as good as new. I was mid-way through my first-floor tour of the museum, all the while muttering 'amazing,' 'holy cow,' and 'sweet mama,' when the guards shooed everyone out for closing time. I'll just have to spend more of my school breaks soaking in thousands of years of history (for free!). What a chore.

The Facade of the British Royal Museum

Welcome to Great Written

Yes, I know-the title is incredibly bland. I can't help it, it was the first thing that came to mind this afternoon after 18 hours of travel. Let me explain it this way, "Great Written-where I write great things about Britain." Eww. Still makes me gag. Oh well. The classiness of my blog must pay homage to the inspiration of the moment. Enough of the title and on to the content.

Both plane flights were quiet and uneventful. The same cannot be said of the trip through the London tube to my apartment. I had two guitars, a hefty duffel, and a massive suitcase with the top handle broken off. I was lugging at least 100 lbs around. I made the mistake of going for the shorter route that involved two line transfers rather than the longer route that required only one transfer. Each transfer consisted of the treacherous leap across "the gap" between the door and the platform that we were continually being warned about by the PA system, as well as an assiduous ascent up a few flight of stairs. I got a lot of pity looks and a few offers of help as I trudged up the stairs the first time. The next time I figured out a more convenient way to strap my bags to my body and was able to battle up the stairs at the cost of only a few minor collisions.

Moving in itself was pretty painless. I have a parsimoniously-sized room with yellow walls and blue curtains. The neighbors I have met so far are Alex from New York, Stephanie from Northwestern, and Harry from Slough (just West of London). They're all a lot of fun, and two of them are fellow aspiring doctors. I'm going to try out the shower now as I smell pretty weird after I utilized ample Bod and deodorant in a cover up operation this morning before all the errands began. The shower itself is an interesting story-the shower head is simply attached to the wall in the bathroom and there's a drain in the floor-no tub, no plastic flooring, just a shower curtain that cordons off the shower and toilet (why?) from the sink area. This oughtta be fun.