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little-chimchim · 7 years

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I Only Hate You A Little- Part 3

Rating: R

Word Count: 3562

Genre: Enemies to lovers au! Roommates au! Best friend’s boyfriend au! fluff, smut, angst (Holy trinity of course)

Pairing: Kihyun x Reader

A/N: This story is getting a lot more recognition than I expected! Thank you all so much!! Boy oh boy this part was a fun one. So much drama! I hope you guys enjoy <3 - Kay

Part 2 Part 4 (End)

Kihyun and Liza’s endless fighting was the only thing you could hear in the small apartment. You and Minhyuk had come home late from work one night, exhausted and ready to go to bed. Though, your dreams of sleep were interrupted when you heard Kihyun and Liza’s screams coming from the kitchen.

“That money was going towards a new equipment for Y/N and I!” You heard Kihyun yell. Minhyuk looked down to you and outstretched his arm, not allowing you to move into the kitchen. “Let’s listen,” He winked at you and continued to listen to the couple fight.

“It’s always about ‘you and Y/N! Instead of doing things for the two of you, why can’t you do things for me? Your girlfriend?” Liza snapped back at him, her voice was shrill and furious.

Kihyun laughed. “Dammit Liza, I already give you everything you want. Remember that dress I bought you last week? Or those expensive headphones that you don’t need? I spend a fortune on you! I’m sorry a new piano or a new recording set is not in your definition of ‘being spoiled,’ but that was my money. You had no right to go and spend it.”

Liza scoffed, she folded her arms and rolled her eyes. “You still didn’t have to buy anything for Y/N. I’m you-” Liza didn’t have the chance to finish before he stormed out of the kitchen and into his room. He hadn’t even noticed that you and Minhyuk were there, listening to him and Liza’s fight.

Moments later he came out, his jacket on and his keys in his hands. He quickly looked to you and Minhyuk before he walked out of the apartment. Liza came rushing out, her face red with anger. “Liza, what did you do?” You asked her wearily.

Liza glared at you and walked into her room. Minhyuk pointed his thumb behind him, looking at you reassuringly. “I’ll go talk to Liza, you go and find Kihyun.” You nodded and ran out the door, following after him.

You knew where he was going to go. You ran down the streets of the city, it was only a few blocks away but you felt the sharp sting of the winter cold bite your face and bare arms. You realized that you had forgotten your jacket on the ground of your apartment.

You ran up to the courtyard of the studio building, where you spotted a lone figure sitting outside, hunched over with his head in his hands. You ran up to him, gasping for breath. “Kihyun!” You breathed out. You bent down and tried to catch your breath. With the mix of the cold and the running, it wasn’t an easy task.

Kihyun stood up and walked to you. “Y/N! Shit, you must be cold.” He quickly shrugged off his winter coat and placed it over your shoulders. He looked around for somewhere to go to get away from the cold.

You looked up to him. You held his jacket tightly around your body. “Why aren’t you inside?” You asked him. Kihyun sighed and held up his car keys. “I brought the wrong keys and I couldn’t get in.” He looked around and grabbed your arm and looked around, there was a little ramen shop still open, despite the time of night. He ushered you across the street, his hands never leaving your arm and the small of your back.

The warmth engulfed you pleasantly when you walked in.

The old man that ran the shop smiled to the two of you and waved you over to the counter. “It’s wonderful to see such a beautiful couple in our shop so late! Please sit down and enjoy.”

“Oh we’re not a c-” Kihyun cut you off and smiled down at you, “I’ll pay for it.” He whispered, ignoring what you were about to say. There was something about the way he smiled at you and held you so closely that made you feel warm inside.

You wished you didn’t feel anything for him. That you went back to hating his guts like you did about a month or so prior. You wished he wasn’t so kind and that he went back to treating you like shit. Maybe then you wouldn’t be falling for him.

As the two of you slowly ate your food, Kihyun told you everything.

“She took some money that I had put aside for some studio equipment for us. I had wanted to surprise you and make a grand gesture out of my gift, but Liza went and spent the money on some clothes and other useless shit she doesn’t need.” Kihyun grumbled. He took a piece of chicken from his bowl and shoved it in his mouth.

“It’s not like I don’t spend a fortune on her already! I know I can afford it but I had set it aside for particularly you and I.” He looked to you and frowned, he stuck out his arm and moved a stray piece of hair away from your face. “At times I wonder why I’m still with her if she’s only going to use me for my money and sex.”

You looked him in the eyes, he was sad, clear as day. “How much do you love her?” You voice broke, it was quiet and mousy. Kihyun took a deep breath, shaking his head. “I don’t know anymore. At first I thought that she was going to be the woman I married and now...now I’m terrified of falling for someone else.”

Your eyes grew wide, you didn’t quite understand what he was saying. Kihyun turned towards you and grabbed your hands. “We don’t have to talk about Liza right now.” He said. He took your hands and laced your fingers with his.

Only platonically you had to force yourself to think.

“My father sent our videos to a friend of his in the entertainment business. They’re willing to sign us. That’s why I wanted to buy the equipment!” Kihyun said excitedly, grabbing on to your hands tighter.

Your mouth dropped open. This was the best news you had been able to receive in weeks. “Are you serious?” You tried keeping your voice down in the middle of the restaurant, but you couldn’t contain your excitement.

Kihyun stood up and hugged you. “I know I’m ready to perform now. Thank you.” He whispered happily in your ear. He pulled away, still smiling a big, beautiful smile. He pulled out the money from his pocket and set it on the counter.

You took his jacket and wrapped it around yourself, still overjoyed from the news. You had always been musically inclined. You and your parents realized it when you were three years old and able to play the piano with ease. Your love for music had developed later in life, when it became your passion. You went to college to study music composition, but because of the few jobs it provided, you still had to work as a waitress. Now your dream was almost a reality; all thanks to the man you once hated.

Kihyun reached over and grabbed your hand. “Let’s go home.” He looked back and softly laughed. “Make sure to keep the jacket on. You look too comfortable to give it back.” He said before you left the restaurant.

Kihyun and Liza had made up, much to your displeasure. When you and Kihyun came back home, she was crying, albeit fakely. She threw herself on Kihyun and cried for him to forgive her, false tears running down her cheeks.

Kihyun didn’t know what to do other than to accept her apology, weakly telling her that everything was okay and that he forgave her completely.

The moments you spent alone with Kihyun were another story. He touches seemed to linger far longer than they should have. The side glances and the all too intimate moments that the two of you shared. They told another story that even you weren’t able to figure out. You didn’t think that even Kihyun knew what was happening.

When he was at home or at work with Liza, he was enthusiastic in their time together. Their kisses would just be quick pecks and they would hardly talk to each other when they didn’t have to.

You were standing by the doorway to the kitchen at work, monitoring your tables and waiting for them to require your assistance. You were on a shift with Liza and Hoseok tonight. It was a slower night, not many people wanted to to make the trip to a restaurant in the snow.

Liza walked up to you and gave you a lazy smile. The two of you had grown increasingly more and more distant over the past few weeks, since you had befriended Kihyun. She placed her carrying tray on a cart and stood next to you, watching her own tables.

The two of you stood in silence. You remembered when you could talk to her for hours about anything, now it seemed like there was nothing to talk about. The silence didn’t break until you heard Liza scoff under her breath.

“I know what you’re doing.”

You nodded you head and gave her a sideways grin. “And can you tell me what I’m doing because I’m very confused.”

She turned to you and glared, “You’re trying to steal Kihyun away from me. I’ve seen how you look at him. It’s obvious!” Her voice grew louder and angrier with each and every word she spoke.

You looked at her nervously but only smiled her way. “Yes, because I’m that vindictive enough to do that to you. Grow up, Liza.” You muttered. You grabbed your serving tray and looked to the last table you had waited on.

Liza grabbed your arm and yanked you back roughly. You stumbled back, not having expected her to do something like this. “Liza what the hell?”

Liza picked up her head and lowly grinned, she held up her fist and grabbed the collar of your uniform shirt. “Stay away from him or I’m going to..”

“Going to what.” Hoseok snapped, pulling her off of you. He pushed her back and straightened your shirt for you. “I suggest that you get the hell away before I tell Kihyun what you did.” Hoseok turned back to you and held your shoulders.

“Are you okay?” He asked you softly. You nodded your head, still shaken up. You took a deep breath and took your tray in your hands. “Best friends, am I right?” You joked before walking off. You wanted to keep thinking that Liza was still kind and gentle, but now you were beginning to believe that she was crazier than you ever expected.

The noise Kihyun and Liza made was finally getting on your last nerve. You shared the room next to the two, and the constant moans, groans, and screams had angered you to no end. You couldn’t tell if it was the jealousy or the sleep deprivation or probable mix of the two, but you were done.

In the middle of the night, around two in the morning, you hatched an idea to give the couple a taste of their own medicine. You got up from your bed and quietly made your way towards Minhyuk’s room, which was on the other side of the apartment.

You opened his door and rushed to his bed, shaking him until he woke. “Y/N what the hell?” He grumbled, taking a spare pillow and hitting you with it. You threw the pillow back and continued to shake his sleeping form. “Let’s have sex” you said casually, earning you an instantly awake Minhyuk.

He sat up and rubbed his ears, making sure he heard you correctly. “Wait, are you serious?” He questioned, not sure how to feel about your sudden boldness. “I mean, let’s make crazy sex noises to annoy the shit out of Liza and Kihyun. I haven’t been able to sleep because they sound like horny teenagers every night.” You grabbed his arm and pulled it.

He laughed, going along with you. He had to admit that he actually liked the idea.

Once you got into the room you sat on your bed, motioning for Minny to do the same. “How do you sound like you’re having sex without having it?” The question was answered by the silence of thought. “I haven’t been laid in a year” Minhyuk admitted, which was surprisingly only a few months more than you. “We’re two losers in a pod” you laughed. You looked at Minhyuk, a smirk on your face. “Agh, Minny” you moaned very loudly, almost to an obnoxious extent.

Minhyuk’s eyes widened, caught off guard by your noises. “Y/N, are you serious.” He whispered, very obviously flustered by the noises. You nodded, raising your hand and motioning for him to do the same. He sighed and opened his mouth. “Do you like that?” he groaned, his face flushed red as the awkward words came out of his mouth.

The two of you went silent, hearing the couple in the next room over get louder. You looked to your best friend, who listened sadly. He turned to you and frowned. “You’ve fallen for Kihyun, haven’t you?” You let out a sigh, nodding your head. “And you’re in love with Liza.” You told him. He followed the same action, throwing his head back onto your bed.

“We’re two losers in a pod” he whispered, going silent when he heard Liza’s voice scream Kihyun’s name. You rolled over closer to Minhyuk and placed a careful hand on his chest. “We could make them jealous.” You breathed into Minhyuk’s ear. You watched the base of his neck flare up into a bright crimson hue. His dark eyes peered into yours, knowing exactly what you meant.

You knew it was the shared horniness of many months taking over. His lips were on yours within seconds, greedily devouring your mouth like a tiger. You used one hand to grab a hold of his blonde locks, the other one was used to scrape your nails against his abdomen. He hastily locked his hands around the thin t-shirt you had put on before bed.

He yanked it off. He pulled away from your lips and trailed his own down your neck. Minhyuk lightly traced your nipples with the tips of his thumbs, continuing to slowly make his way down your neck and to your chest.

His mouth eventually found its way towards your breasts. He was quick in his movements, sloppy and hasty. You wanted this so badly you could taste it, it’d been too long since you’d been touched.

Your fake moans from prior could not compare to what escaped your lips now. Minhyuk broke apart from you and grinned at you “You can be louder than that” he said, drawing his hands away from your breasts to rub the top of your now soaked panties. He smirked up to you, a completely different man from moments before. “How else are we going to make them jealous? We have to…” He paused, moving the side of your underwear away. He leaned in and licked a long strip up your folds. This sent an instant sense of euphoria through you, causing you to scream as he continued to eat you out.

The loud noises made Minhyuk happy, since he was the one causing them. He watched you squirm under him as he used his tongue to pleasure you. “Minhyuk, I don’t know how long I can last” you moaned, gripping the sheets tightly under you.

“Come on babe, not yet.” He licked you once more before unstringing his sweat pants. His erection could have practically been bulging out of his briefs. You pushed yourself up to rest on your elbows, eyeing Minhyuk palm himself through the thin layer of his underwear.

He pulled the underwear off and held himself tightly, walking towards you, smiling mischievously. “Spread your legs.” You did as he told you and spread your soaked legs. He looked down at your soaked heat “I can’t believe I did that.” He ran the tip of his erection up and down your folds, teasing you even further than before. The last thing your heard before he pushed himself into you was, “Louder.”

And that’s when you knew that the two of you won the noise competition for the night…

The morning after was painfully awkward. You were surprised that the awkwardness didn’t come from Minhyuk though. You woke up tangled in his arms. You pushed him away, much like you had done many mornings prior.

“Good morning my beautiful love.” Minhyuk cooed sarcastically. You laughed, kicking his leg once he got out of your bed. He was still naked, but the sight was nothing new to you now. Not since last night. He scanned his room for his undergarments and pants. Once he found them, he pulled them on. “You know, I had a great time last night, but I have a wife and child so I won’t be calling you back.” He joked, pulling on the oversized t-shirt he had left on the floor.

“Ha ha” you said, chucking a pillow lightly at him. “Glad to know that sex didn’t change my sweet best friend into a horny jerk.” you said, throwing your head back onto your pillows. “Do you think we made them jealous, at all?” You asked him, knowing that your weak efforts were probably for nothing. Minhyuk shrugged “Only way to find out” he said, throwing your clothes at you.

Once you were changed, the two of you walked out of your room and into the kitchen, where Liza and Kihyun were sipping their coffee quietly. You tried not laughing to yourself, noting the heavy atmosphere surrounding the two of you.

You grabbed a mug from the cabinet and poured yourself a cup of coffee. You sat across from Kihyun and Liza, noting that they tried not to stare at you and Minhyuk. “So..” Liza started off. “How was your guys night?” She asked, obviously in a better mood than she had been in lately.

You brought your hands up to shrug “It was alright I guess, wouldn’t you say, Minny?” Minhyuk nodded, unenthused. “Yeah I guess. Nothing special really happened.” He said, grabbing the coffee creamer for you and him from the fridge.

You looked up from your mug, only to see Kihyun’s eyes on you. He was expressionless, maybe even a bit sad. You looked away and focused on the coffee again. “What are your plans for the day?” Minhyuk asked Liza and Kihyun.

Liza took too long to answer so Kihyun quickly acknowledged the question. “We were going to go to brunch.” He got up and pointed to the room “Babe, want to go get ready with me now?” Liza set her coffee down and followed Kihyun into their room.

Once they were gone, you could hear Minhyuk laugh under his breath. “They don’t know what to say.” He took a sip of coffee, shaking his blond head. “Is it bad that I want them to break up already?” Minhyuk asked you.

“Not at all, or maybe we’re just bad people.” You said, bringing your cup up for him to cheer with you. He clanked his mug against yours “To the two losers in a pod.” He joked. He set the cup down, smiling mischievously. “I honestly don’t see you romantically, you’re my best friend, but God damn I wouldn’t mind having sex again.” He walked closer to you. He tilted your chin up, revealing your neck in full display. He brought his mouth down on the skin. This was slower than the night before and to give your permission to go further, you pulled his body even closer to yours.

You had to admit, you loved the fact that the two of you were both extremely sex deprived. It made having sex without the feelings so much easier. He continued kissing you, trailing his kissed up to your mouth and messily kissing you.

A few minutes into this, the two of you heard a rough noise come from behind. Minhyuk pulled away and waved to Kihyun shyly. You wiped your lips, turning to Kihyun. He glared at the two of you, much like he did when he began living with you.

“Wouldn’t you guys be better of in a bedroom? Maybe then no one will have to walk in on you and interrupt your important business.” He said snidely, rolling his eyes. He grabbed his jacket and keys from the counter next to you. “Unbelievable” He muttered towards you. He walked away, going to the door to wait for Liza.

Once they were gone, Minhyuk laughed loudly. “I think we were a little bit successful.” He nudged your ribs hard. You nodded your head, not saying anything. You didn’t want to make Kihyun jealous if it meant that you were going to lose him.

You grabbed your coffee cup and held it to your lips. You couldn’t bare the thought of Kihyun hating you again.

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hopefullysomethingnew17 · 7 years

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Chapter 1: Peter

I slapped the alarm as I rolled over. It was too damn early. Way too damn early to be waking up on a weekend. It was a good thing classes were already over. I pulled myself out of bed and grabbed the first clean shirt I could find. It ended up being a faded tank I hadn’t worn since spring break. I plodded around half-asleep, half-naked, and all-irritated. I trudged into the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face. That helped. I squinted into the mirror, the image of my face a little fuzzy without my glasses. I needed to shave. Oh well. I walked back into the bedroom and grabbed my glasses off my nightstand. Once I had them on I found a pair of khaki shorts and pulled them on, only to have them slide halfway down my ass by the time I made it into the living room. So I turned around and grabbed a cloth belt off the back of my closet door and cinched it tight as I walked back into the living room.

It was too early for any of my roommates to be up, but I wasn’t worried about being quiet. They were all probably too hungover from whatever end-of-the-year parties they had been to the night before. I checked the fridge. It was overflowing with cheap beer and Chinese takeout, easily the most stereotypical college apartment fridge I had ever seen. I grabbed the carton of milk from behind a case of Bud Light and shut the fridge. Then, I grabbed a box of cereal and a bowl and made myself a meager little breakfast. I ate it quickly and went back to my room to double-check my stuff. Most of the clothes I owned were stuffed into a duffel bag on the floor next to the bed. I rifled through it to make sure I had enough for the next week. It was mostly khaki shorts and t-shirts, but I made sure I had two pairs of trunks and plenty of underwear. Never could be too safe.

Once I was sure all my clothes were in order, I unzipped my backpack to make sure everything else I needed was packed inside. My laptop and various chargers were tucked into the back pocket; my shampoo, soap, and deodorant was bagged up in the bottom; my toothbrush and toothpaste were sitting on top of that; my headphones were neatly tucked into there case on top of the toiletries; and my sparkling clean sneakers were holding everything in place on top. All my other shoes were in my duffel bag, but these sneaks were special. They were vintage Chicago Air Jordan 1s, 1985 stock. I wasn’t a sneakerhead by any stretch of the imagination, but my dad had given them to me as a kid, and I had taken meticulous care of them since. They were like my good luck charm. I took them with me everywhere I went. I ran my thumb along them before zipping my backpack up and checking the front pouch for everything else. Tylenol, check. Earbuds, check. Aux cord, check. I still had a nagging feeling I was forgetting something. Extra glasses maybe? I opened my nightstand drawer to find them. They were sitting next to an unopened box of condoms. I laughed and tossed both into the bag. As if, I thought. I zipped everything back up and slung my backpack over my shoulder. I grabbed my duffel and headed towards the door before I remembered one last thing. I set my stuff by the door and walked back to my dresser to pick up my record player.

I pulled off the record sitting on the turntable and thumbed through my collection until I found the right sleeve. It was Queen’s Greatest Hits, sides 3 and 4. I slipped the vinyl back into its spot and shut the lid to my player. I unplugged it and rolled the cord up, sticking it into my carrying case along with the player itself. I had room for ten vinyls in the case, so I flipped through my collection and picked out my favorites: Queen, Snarky Puppy, Steve Miller Band, Imagine Dragons, They Might Be Giants, Survivor, Commodores. I tucked them all into the case and closed it tight. I looked around the room for anything else I might need, and, finding nothing, I grabbed my record and headed out the door, grabbing my backpack and duffel on the way out. I checked the clock on the living room wall before I left. It was only 7:30. I told Charlie I’d be there at 8:00. I’d have to hurry. But then again, knowing Charlie, it would be 9:00 before we ever left. I turned the lights off behind me as I left, heading downstairs to the parking garage. I decided to go through the courtyard on my way. It was more doors to go through, but even as early as it was, it was a beautiful day. The lights hanging around the courtyard were just turning off as I made my way out. I headed through the lobby and out to the parking garage, weaving my way through until I made it to my car.

Baby was my dream car, a 1969 Volkswagen Beetle, baby blue with original chrome trim. My grandpa had bought off an air force base before my dad was born, but he stopped driving it in the 90s, mainly because he could never drive a stick very well. Once I got a job in high school, half my paychecks went into new parts for the old girl, and by senior year I had her running beautifully. I’d driven her ever since, fixing her up more and more whenever I could. She was now sporting whitewall tires, a completely rebuilt engine with twice the horsepower of the original, a new paintjob, and custom upholstery. I couldn’t remember when I’d started calling her baby. It was probably around the time I finally started driving her. I was the stereotypical new car owner and referred to her as my baby, and the name kinda stuck. My friends had all made fun of me at first for driving such a “dorky” car, but once they took a ride in it, they all fell in love with it just like I did. I joked that if my engineering degree ever fell through I could always fall back on mechanics. As many hours as I’d spent fixing up Baby, it really wasn’t too far from the truth.

I took a deep, heavy breath as I turned the engine over, struggling to keep my eyes open as I pulled out onto the road. I made the executive decision to be late to Charlie’s for the sake of coffee. And booze. After seeing the pathetic selection in my fridge, I decided to take those matters into my own hands. I pulled into Grit Coffee Bar, a popular streetside café I frequented throughout the week to fuel my unhealthy reliance on espresso. Parking was no problem, being as early as it was on a Sunday morning. I managed to get a spot in the right in front of the coffeeshop. It was 7:45 when I pulled in, and I remembered that they didn’t open until 8:00 on Sundays. I killed the engine and pulled out my phone to text Charlie.

ME: Hey, gonna be late. Needed coffee and booze.

I waited for a reply, but it didn’t come for a while. I plugged in my earbuds and opened Spotify, not looking for anything in particular. I was halfway through “Lazaretto” by Jack White when my phone pinged with Charlie’s response.

CHARLIE: Ah shit I just woke up.

ME: Why am I not surprised?

CHARLIE: Oh get off my case.

CHARLIE: You’re the one buying booze at 8 AM.

ME: Well it’s either I buy it now or you get stuck with Bud Light for a week.

CHARLIE: Oh, nvm good call man.

I checked the time again. It was 8:05. The doors were just opening. I locked the car behind me and headed in to grab a coffee to kickstart the long day of driving ahead of me. Gus, a good friend of mine, was working the morning shift today.

“Should’ve known you’d be in here this early,” he joked. “You’ve gotta be the only guy on campus crazy enough to be up right now.”

“Thanks, Gus,” I feigned sarcasm, slapping a five on the counter. He didn’t even have to ask what I wanted. I came in so often that almost every employee knew I always got a medium caramel latte with two shots espresso and whipped cream. Gus was already grinding the beans as I walked up to the counter.

“I’m serious, you know,” he said, pouring the coffee into the cup. “I didn’t pass a single car on my way to work today. Why are you even up so early? All your roommates were at the big party at Trinity last night.”

“I’m going on a big road trip,” I said, grabbing my coffee and change off the counter.

“Really now?” Gus asked as he turned to clean out the espresso machine.

“Yup. I’m taking Charlie to Gulf Shores for Hangout.”

“Oh, you’re kidding! I’m so jealous, dude. That’s gonna be awesome.”

“Yeah, I really hope so. We’re gonna try to make it to Atlanta tonight.”

“Well, have fun. But be safe! Can’t have our number one customer up and leaving us.” Gus grinned and waved as I walked out, coffee in hand. I took a deep breath as I got in the car and cranked it up. This was without a doubt the craziest thing I had ever done. I shook off my nerves and broke into a grin as I pulled out of the parking lot. I turned on the radio just as my lucky song came on. Elton John was singing “Rocket Man” on the FM, and I couldn’t help but join him as my adventure started.

#webseries #web series #series #fiction #my fic #original

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delhi-architect2 · 5 years

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Journal - 17 Inspiring Examples of Modern Irish Architecture

Got an innovative local project of your own? Enter it in the 8th Annual A+Awards for a shot at international publication and global recognition. Submit your projects before March 27th to be in the running.

Architects love going green, but today it’s not a byword for our preoccupations with eco-friendly innovation. Celebrated around the world on March 17, St. Patrick’s Day is the perfect opportunity to recognize Irish culture (and have a cheeky pint of Guinness or three).

St. Patrick’s Day originates in ancient times, being the date traditionally acknowledged as coinciding with the death of Ireland’s patron saint around A.D. 493. However, the day is now as much of a celebration of contemporary culture across this fair isle, and architecture represents an important component of the country’s recent drive to embrace modernity.

This includes a number of cracking new projects in the residential, commercial and civic typologies, displaying a surprising degree of diversity and daring by architecture firms across both Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland. Here’s our pick of the bunch. Enjoy and may all the luck of the four-leaf clover be with you on this festive day!

Titanic Belfast by Todd Architects, Belfast

One of the foremost architectural landmarks of the 21st century in Northern Ireland sits on the harbor front in the center of Belfast. The 150,700-square-foot building is the largest museum of its kind devoted to the infamous ocean liner Titanicand is formed by four soaring, aluminum-clad shards inspired by the hulls of boats constructed in this very dockyard a century ago.

Formwork Studio by Architecture Republic, Dublin

On a smaller scale, Architecture Republic conceived this artist’s retreat as a simple textured cube, with workbenches, steps and seating formed by a continuous ribbon of concrete around the room. The minimalist style and lighting creates a serene, calming atmosphere, reminiscent of many works by the king of concrete himself, Tadao Ando.

VISUAL & the George Bernard Shaw Theatre by Terry Pawson Architects, Dublin

This €18-million building forms a multifunctional space for the arts in the Republic of Ireland’s capital city, combining VISUAL — a high-ceilinged exhibition space for displaying contemporary art — and a large theater venue. The building reads as a series of volumes clad with opaque glass and presented on a raised concrete plinth, providing ample day lighting for the galleries in the daytime and forming a contemporary lantern by night.

Dwelling at Maytree by ODOS, Wicklow

This sleek modernist structure looks more like a contemporary gallery than a private residence, with sculptural elements containing open-plan living spaces beneath a steep, tree-covered escarpment. In the midst of the snow-white walls and cool gray window frames, flashes of lime enliven the building’s appearance, and a bold cantilever is supported by a quirky cluster of bright red columns.

The Plastic House by Architecture Republic, Dublin

Architecture Republic returns to our list with this startling residential renovation, which saw a typical mid-terrace house transformed into a futuristic minimalist environment. The interior has been left entirely open with double-height spaces and gantries throughout (only the bathroom is enclosed), and its pure palette of black and white gives it the feel of a 3D Mondrian painting.

Trinity Long Room Hub by McCullough Mulvin Architects, Dublin

Designed as the new Humanities Research Building in Trinity College, the Long Room Hub is intended to form a modern yet contextually respectful intervention alongside the College’s Neoclassical buildings. The building’s façades are comprised of stone and glass to echo the material palette of the surrounding architecture, but the structure’s simplified aesthetic offers a striking contrast within this historic square.

3 Mews Houses by ODOS, Dublin

The raw aesthetic of these private residences in Dublin’s city center nods to the area’s industrial heritage. The cantilevered upper section is comprised of power-coated, metal industrial floor planks arranged in varying widths to create a dynamic rhythm along the mews frontage. Behind this metal veil, open-plan living spaces are punctuated with plant-filled rooftop terraces.

Via Hufton+Crow

Giant’s Causeway Visitor Centre by heneghan peng architects, Antrim

Heneghan peng was nominated for the prestigious Stirling Prize in 2013 for this subterranean visitor center, which is designed as an extension of the stunning natural landscape of Antrim’s rugged coastline. The green-roofed Centre is formed from “two folds into the landscape” with stone columns imitating the extraordinary basalt formations of the Causeway itself.

5Cube by de Siún Scullion Architects, Dublin

5Cube is a semipermanent pavilion that was set at Hanover Quay in Dublin in 2015. Sponsored by the European Union–funded ACE for Energy project, the installation physically represents the volume of oil the country consumes every fives minutes. 5Cube encourages viewers to think more deeply about the use of renewable energy in Ireland. One side of the boxy structure reveals 473 barrels of oil, which measures 4.2 meters cubed [about 1,100 gallons]. The opposite side shows Ireland’s target volume of energy used from renewable sources by 2020.

Scale of Ply by NOJI, Dublin

This Victorian, two-story house in Dublin received a major interior upgrade from NOJI in 2014. A previously dark and damp building, the architects envisioned a luminous design with a plywood lattice structure as the focal point. The new interior features a series of interconnecting triangular planes that are positioned to allow deep light into the home throughout the day. With the original ground-floor walls knocked down, the new kitchen and dining space now also extends into covered areas that relate to the garden.

DrlLexicon by Carr Cotter Naessens Architects, Dublin

Set in Moran Park, Dublin, drlLexicon visibly demonstrates the natural fault line between the harbor and the town of Dun Laoghaire. The building is wedged into a granite escarpment that reconnects the two levels of the park. The upper level is conceived as a new public space with a pond constructed as a series of weirs, a raised belvedere that extends toward the sea and a forecourt at the library’s entrance. The building, a concrete shell with a granite and red brick façade, is composed of two forms: Along the street are meeting rooms, workshops and reading spaces, while the park-side space houses a lounge with a “piano nobile” above, each with long windows that frame the park.

Roscommon Civic Offices by ABK Architects, Roscommon

ABK Architects designed a 6,600-square-meter [71,000-square-foot] civic office for the city council on the site of a former criminal justice precinct. The building is created as a series of interlocking volumes and a central, linear concourse that serves as the primary public space, linking offices with a large council chamber at the front of the structure. Dramatic windows line the façade, allowing ample natural light into the building. The unique design also gives way to a variety of external spaces such as woodland gardens, a forecourt and a covered walk sheltered by the cantilevered form of the offices above.

Grillagh Water by Patrick Bradley Architects, Derry, Northern Ireland

Grillagh Water is a contemporary piece of architecture set in rural Northern Ireland that’s built to break through the stereotypes of traditional design in this region. Not only is it a low-maintenance and innovative design, but it showcases how good design within a modest budget can encourage and enliven its occupants. The farmhouse is constructed out of four 45-foot-high, cube shipping containers and is inspired by the form of local agricultural sheds. Its unique cantilevered form features rusted COR-TEN steel and dark gray expanded metal.

Island Dwelling by O’Neill Architecture, Aran Islands

This stunning private home is located on the Aran Islands just outside of Galway Bay in Ireland. It provides spectacular views of the Cliffs of Moher and the surrounding landscape. The 104-square-meter [1,119-square-foot] house is located on the north end of the site with a south-facing garden. The main entrance is located on the lower level with two double bedrooms. A staircase that follows the slope of the hill leads upward to an open-plan living space. A 30-square-meter [323-square-foot] studio sits behind the main building. The project was constructed with a special honeycomb structure clay masonry, allowing the house to be breathable and light amid the high moisture content of the area.

Bord Gáis Energy Theatre and Grand Canal Commercial Development by Studio Libeskind, Dublin

When completed in 2010 and 2011, this mega-project was at the heart of the revitalization effort for Grand Central Harbour. The civic structure is a 2,000-seat performing arts center and a 375,000-square-foot office and retail space. The Grand Theatre has become the main façade of the project, serving as a backdrop for activity and performances on the large public piazza. The two office blocks feature multistory glazed atriums, courtyards and landscaped roofs.

Solid Sanctuary by 4 Architecture, County Sligo

Solid Sanctuary is a striking wooden box set in a vast landscape. The project was designed with a gradually sloping roof and a carved recess that allows maximum natural light into the house. These light shafts also provide diagonal views of the surrounding environment. Vertical slits appear throughout the façade further bringing daylight into the building, while a corner window frames the view of a nearby mountain. While bright and airy, the project also gives ample privacy to its clients.

Flynn Mews House by Lorcan O’Herlihy Architects [LOHA], Dublin

The Flynn Mews House was built in the heart of Dublin on the site of an 1847 coach house. The original historic façade was stored and remains the main entrance by way of a small mews. Its design reframes the site using a distinct two-volume formation that flanks an interior sunken courtyard. A glass bridge is suspended across the central void, visibly connecting the interior, exterior and the historic character of the house. This project was part of the Dublin Green Building Pilot Program.

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newstfionline · 7 years

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On London’s Streets, Black Cabs and Uber Fight for a Future

By Katrin Bennhold, NY Times, July 4, 2017

LONDON--Shortly before 6 a.m., Zahra Bakkali tiptoed out of her bedroom for morning prayers. She prepared breakfast (black tea and toast with olive oil), saw her children off to school, then rode the elevator to the garage below her southeast London housing project. She unlocked her white Toyota Prius, switched on the Uber app and awaited the day’s first job.

In a modest bungalow on the opposite side of the city, Paul Walsh had coffee and toast with butter. He studied the sports pages (his soccer team, Queens Park Rangers, had been struggling) and waved goodbye to his wife and son. Then he fired up his black cab, which is actually half-pink with an Elvis ad from the Memphis tourism board, and set off for Heathrow Airport.

They travel the same streets every day, strangers but also adversaries in what has become a familiar 21st-century conflict: the sharp-elbowed ride-hailing company Uber, versus entrenched taxi companies.

And yet the clash in London is different, less about the disruptive power of an app, or a new business model, than about the disruption of Britain. London’s cabby wars echo the culture wars that fueled Britain’s vote last summer to leave the European Union--and that have brutally flared up again in recent weeks: immigrant versus native, old versus new, global versus national.

London’s black cabs trace their lineage to 1634. To earn a badge, cabbies spend years memorizing some 25,000 streets and 100,000 landmarks for “the Knowledge,” the world’s toughest taxi exam. Most cabbies are white and British.

Uber arrived in 2012, just before the London Olympics, but its 40,000 drivers already far outnumber the city’s 21,000 traditional cabbies. They use satellite navigation to find their way around. Most of them are nonwhite, and many, like Mrs. Bakkali, are immigrants.

Uber fares are about 30 percent lower than those of black cabs--a discrepancy that cabbies say signals a deliberate attempt to kill off their trade. “London without black cabs,” Mr. Walsh said, “would be like London without Big Ben.”

The vote to leave the European Union, known here as Brexit, exposed a deep rift between those who have profited from globalization, sometimes spectacularly, and those who feel threatened by immigration and automation. Six out of 10 Londoners, including Mrs. Bakkali, voted against Brexit. But Mr. Walsh and most black-cab drivers interviewed for this article voted in favor.

One year after that vote, Britain is on edge. More divided than ever after an inconclusive election, the country has lived through four terrorist attacks in recent months--three by British Muslims and one against them. A charred housing project where a fire killed at least 80 mostly disadvantaged tenants in one of London’s richest boroughs has turned into a somber monument to inequality.

Uber, meanwhile, has become its own symbol of excess. Revelations of an aggressive corporate culture that saw employees harassed, drivers mistreated and regulators dodged forced the company’s founder, Travis Kalanick, to resign as chief executive last month.

Mrs. Bakkali, the daughter of Moroccan farmers, and Mr. Walsh, the son of a north London construction worker, are small players in these much bigger dramas. They want the same thing: to claw their way into the middle class and give their children a shot at a better life. Yet they are on opposite sides of a kind of low-level guerrilla warfare on London’s streets.

“They drive up to you so close, you find yourself going through a red light,” Mrs. Bakkali said of black cabs she had encountered. The drivers give the middle finger, she said, and shout abuse. And they certainly “never give way.” Some black cabs have offensive cartoons on display. One even had a custom license plate: “H8 UBER.”

For Mrs. Bakkali, black cabs have become a byword for populism and racism. For Mr. Walsh, Uber is shorthand for everything he believes is wrong with globalization--and proof that successive governments have failed hard-working citizens like him.

Grant Davis, chairman of the London Cab Drivers Club, recounted a meeting with a minister in the Conservative government about a year ago. “I said to him, ‘I’m from a working-class family, I grew up in social housing,’” said Mr. Davis, who has driven a black cab in London for 29 years. “I said, ‘I believed in the conservative ethos: Work hard, better myself. I don’t want no benefits. But what you have done is you’re killing us for an American company that is paying taxes in the Netherlands.’”

“Look at all those cabdrivers, we are all from poor families,” he recalled telling the minister, Sajid Javid, then the business secretary. “I wanted to be my own boss. I’ve done everything you said I should do. And you’ve pulled the rug from under my feet.”

“In London, driving a cab is a vocation,” Mr. Walsh said one morning in April. “It’s a way of life.”

He drove past the Union Jack pub, then right, then left and into a hidden courtyard with everything a cabby could want: gas, parking, spare parts and a canteen that serves an all-day fried English breakfast.

In other cities, the latest immigrant group to arrive takes up the taxi trade, Mr. Walsh said. Not here. “First you invest several years studying,” he explained. “Then you invest 45,000 pounds in your cab,” or about $58,000.

Uber, he said, is not just killing a business model: “It’s killing a culture.”

Mr. Walsh proudly conforms to most stereotypes about London cabbies. Opinionated, witty and full of trivia about his city, he claims to be able to “speak for two minutes on any subject.”

Inside the canteen, Chelsea was playing Sunderland on two flat-screen televisions. There was vinegar on the table and spotted dick on the menu. The place could not be more British. Except that the entire staff seemed to be Eastern European.

A lot of Poles now live where Mr. Walsh grew up, in Harlesden, northwest London. When he was a boy in the 1960s and ‘70s, most children in the neighborhood were either black or had Irish roots, as he did: “Plastic Dreads or plastic Paddies,” said Mr. Walsh, now 53.

His father worked in construction and his mother in a cookie factory, but they saved up and moved the family to Wembley, a more middle-class area. “My parents were aspirational and brought me up that way,” he said.

Earning a taxi badge was a ticket to upward mobility, but it required mastering the Knowledge. The dropout rate is 70 percent. Six days a week, Mr. Walsh would crisscross London on a scooter memorizing roughly 2,000 miles of road. He had regular 20-minute “appearances”--oral tests with examiners “who put the fear of the devil” into him, he said. One of them had a wooden parrot on the windowsill and a stuffed Persian cat on his desk, “like a James Bond villain,” he recalled.

“He would sit against the window--you’d only see his silhouette, and it looked like the parrot was on his shoulder,” Mr. Walsh said. “Then he would grill you on the most obscure routes.”

At night, Mr. Walsh dreamed of London and woke up sweating. Texas Legation to Union Chapel. Cumberland Market to Redhill Street. Policeman’s Hook to Trinity Church. “You live and breathe the Knowledge,” he said. “It takes over your brain.”

He got his badge on Nov. 10, 1994, a Thursday. It had taken him nearly three years, one year less than the average, and he was as proud as he had ever been.

“Three years,” he said. “And then Uber turned the Knowledge into an app.”

On a sunny Thursday morning last June, one week before Britain voted to leave the European Union, Mrs. Bakkali dropped off her youngest child at school and then sat in her car, staring at the Uber app. She hesitated and finally turned it on. It was her first day on the job.

She had come to London in 1997, at age 18, unable to read or write or drive, with a new husband she barely knew. Her husband, the son of Moroccan immigrants who had arrived in London in the 1960s, had escorted her from a village without electricity in the mountains behind Marrakesh to a new, unimaginable life. To mark the occasion, her mother-in-law had paid for a black cab from Heathrow Airport back to East Street Market in southeast London, her new home.

Mrs. Bakkali had never left her country before, never taken an airplane, never even owned a passport. Asked for her signature, she could make only a clumsy doodle.

Now 38, Mrs. Bakkali is hungry for education. She takes a weekly mathematics class at a community college in Westminster, her “Wednesday treat.” She began taking English classes after giving birth to her first daughter, who is now 18 and plans to study math at university next year.

“Girls in my village were not allowed,” she said of schooling.

In 2010, Mrs. Bakkali was eight months pregnant with her fifth child, with her twins in a stroller and a child on each arm, when the bus driver, a black man, hissed at her, “You bloody foreigners, you come to this country and just keep having babies.”

It was not the first time. “I just started crying,” Mrs. Bakkali recalled.

That night, she told her husband they needed to buy a car, and he needed to learn to drive, because she never wanted to take public transportation again. Afraid of driving, he refused. So she got her own license.

Mrs. Bakkali loved driving. About a year ago, over breakfast, she confessed her dream: to become a bus driver.

“What about Uber?” her husband asked.

They went online and booked an appointment for the next morning, a Sunday. By lunchtime she had registered with Uber, heard a presentation, taken an online topography test, received a certificate from the company and applied for the obligatory government background check. It took a few weeks to get a “private hire license” from Transport for London, the city’s transportation regulator.

Then she was, in Uber speak, “onboarded.”

Sometimes when a customer cancels, Mrs. Bakkali worries that it is because she is Muslim. In her photograph on the Uber app, she wears a head scarf discreetly tied at the back of her neck.

There are several Muslim women on Mrs. Bakkali’s WhatsApp group Uber Super Ladies (women make up a small minority of Uber drivers and cabdrivers). Some of them met at a party Uber held for them on International Women’s Day. They shared pastries and stories about the relentless hostility coming from cabbies.

“They have all these advantages,” Mrs. Bakkali said: Black cabs can use bus lanes and taxi stands, and be hailed on the street, “but they are angry with us.”

One friend, also a Muslim woman, was so shaken by a recent encounter that she almost quit. A cabdriver had gotten out of his taxi and come toward her car, waving a fist and shouting: “You Muslim, you can’t even drive! Take off that scarf!”

Mrs. Bakkali recently had a polite exchange with a cabby, a man from Somalia, who rolled down his window at a red light.

“Salaam aleikum, sister,” he told her, smiling. “You’re taking our business.”

“It’s my business, too,” she replied.

“How is it, sister? Small money?”

“Sometimes big, sometimes small.”

Mrs. Bakkali once earned £340 in a single shift, working 20 hours straight. She dropped off her last customer in Weybridge, west of London, at 6:30 a.m., then found a parking lot, locked her car doors and napped before turning the app back on and making her way home.

On average, though, she takes home closer to £300 a week after paying for insurance, gas and twice-weekly carwashes. Earning and controlling her own money for the first time is liberating, she says, but even with her husband’s income from a part-time supermarket job, the family relies on benefits like subsidized housing.

“It’s hard,” she admitted.

Last year, Uber raised its commission on every ride to 25 percent, from 20, for new drivers. Mrs. Bakkali recently went to a drivers’ meeting at Uber’s biggest “Greenlight Hub,” or drivers’ center, in London. The room was packed. Everybody had the same urgent plea: Could Uber cut its commission back to 20 percent?

The answer was no.

Mr. Walsh says that the cabbies’ fight is with Uber--not with its drivers. “We see them sleep in their cars,” he said. “Uber is turning the time back to the Victorian era.”

He was having a cup of tea with fellow cabdrivers outside a small green wooden hut near Buckingham Palace, one of 13 remaining “cabmen’s shelters” dating from the days when cabs were still horse-drawn coaches.

One cabby recently sold his taxi because there was not enough work. He is leasing one now but may quit altogether, he said. “Most weeks you’re just trying to cover your costs.”

Before Uber, Mr. Walsh would have 20 fares a day. Now the number is closer to five. “They want to price us out of the market,” he said, “and then they’ll raise prices--you watch.”

And when cars go driverless, he added bitterly, “cabbies and Uber drivers will both be history.”

Mrs. Bakkali shrugs at the idea. She grew up without running water or a phone. To visit her grandparents, she had to walk--for a day.

“So much has changed in my life,” she said. If someday driving is no longer an option, she may start her own business, she said. Embroidery, perhaps, or sewing.

Mr. Walsh accepts that black cabs have been slow to adapt to change. Credit-card machines were made mandatory only last fall. Ride-hailing apps for black cabs remain fragmented. But he believes that his brain can beat a navigation system any day. Years ago, he took part in a research project at University College London that found that memorizing a map of the city resulted in an enlarged hippocampus.

“Cabdrivers’ brains are bigger,” Mr. Walsh said proudly.

Navigation systems do not know nicknames like the Policeman’s Hook. They cannot deal with incomplete addresses and do not know the best shortcuts when traffic is bad. And they cannot tell you where to buy the best salt beef bagels.

“We’re still better than the machines,” he said. “But who will come and protect us?”

#Britain #London cabs #London black cabs #Uber in England #Uber in London

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sight-seeking · 7 years

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Day 4

June 25th 2017, Sunday

4:30am: I realize the reason I wake up so early is because the sun starts coming up at 4am. How do I know this? Windowed ceiling. My body can’t fight the sunlight. Without a sleeping mask (tucked deeply into the abyss that is my luggage) my circadian rhythm goes, “LIGHT EQUALS AWAKE NOW.”

5:30am: I finally get out of bed and start packing after lying awake. It’s time to end my stay in London this week. Even though I’ve been through a lot, I still want to come back here. There’s so much I haven’t yet seen. So much I’m ready to experience. Maybe I’ll spend another weekend here. Who knows.

8:00am: I finish packing and eating breakfast and I bid the Hostel ado. I take the Piccadilly line to the airport. I watch the neighborhoods of Greater London go by and I marvel at the buildings. I’m sure to the people who live there they seem boring and mundane. But to me, they are vivacious and new.

9:10am: I am at the airport again. The group flight with all the other students won’t arrive for a another thirty minutes so I sit down and relax. Now that I am fully charged, funded, and connected I no longer fear for my well-being. It’s an amazing feeling. But everyone back home is still asleep, so I’ll have to wait before I can call them.

10:00am: The group flight arrives at LHR. I see a couple of students wearing Georgia shirts and I gasp. I have found my people.

11:00am: After roll call, three coaches (buses) collect us for travel to Oxford. We take a while to load up because everyone started putting their luggage on the wrong bus. We have a laugh about it and quickly get things straightened out.

11:10am: We leave the airport and I end up falling asleep for most of the ride. What is it about buses and trips that take more than 30mins that make me fall asleep?

12:12pm: I wake up as we drive through a little place called Summertown. That is the cutest name for a town that I’ve ever heard. The town itself is also cute, and quaint. I look at some of the buildings for a while, but eventually I end up falling asleep again.

12:20pm: We arrive in central oxford. I wake up to the murmuring voices of the other students and look out the window to see what I will later find out to be The Bodleian Library. We all gawk at it. It is OLD and GORGEOUS. Bust of great scholars decorate the front wall and the stones are marked with age and English rain. We park in front of trinity college and unload.

Wait, just let me just clarify things here:

EVERYTHING IN OXFORD IS OLD AND GORGEOUS. THERE’S LIKE, 48 COLLEGES, THAT MAKE UP THE UNIVERSITY, OVER 20 LIBRARIES THAT MAKE UP THE BODLIEAN, AND HUNDREDS OF AMAZING SHOPS. I CAN SEE WHY TOLKIEN, CARROL, ROWLAND, LEWIS AND HUNDREDS OF OTHER WRITERS LIVED HERE AND WERE SO INSPIRED BY THIS PLACE, IT’S A FANTASY TOWN.

Words can’t do it justice, you just gotta trust me on this one.

12:40am: As we snap pictures of the college, we’re given our keys, room numbers, and pass codes. Everyone is told to go freshen up and meet back together at 5 for orientation and dinner.

12:50pm: I go to my room. It’s at the top of three flights of stairs with no elevator. I have to use my inner man-strength to lug all my stuff up the old stairs. By the time I’m at the top I’m thoroughly out of breath and ready to pass. I twist the key in and enter my room.

My room.

MY ROOM.

MORE LIKE AN APARTMENT. IT’S SO SPACIOUS. It’s got a neat little bed with towels folded at the end like a hotel. There’s an arm chair and coffee table by a closed up fireplace (probably to keep this old building from burning down. Classic England) Not to mention a nice desk and two laps, one over the bed and the other at my desk. Three windows look out to a neighboring building. There’s a side room with a large wardrobe, with a mini fridge inside. And to the right of that is one of the fanciest bathrooms I’ve ever seen.

I spend thirty minutes losing my mind over the room.

5:00pm: I go to the first orientation meeting and welcome. When I arrive with some other student, the room is accidently locked and disorganized. The program director has to come and unlock the door. We quickly start moving the chairs into rows. For the next hour, the director lays down the rules for the expectation of the college, and what we can/can’t do while we’re there. A select list of things include:

All fire/smoke related things are prohibited. This campus is as old as dirt, easily flammable. The smoke detectors are super sensitive, and the alarms are super loud.

The only sport we can play on the lawn is croquet. And we can only play in the back lawns. We’re not allowed to step on the front lawns for whatever reason.

No red wine on the lawn. Apparently, it stains the grass and they don't like that, only white liquor allowed. *

*Apparently lawn maintenance was pretty high on their priority list.

6:00pm: The director finishes his lecture. We were going to have a BBQ dinner outside, but it turns out there was a ball at the college the night before. And it got so wild that the gardeners were still dismantling the decorations and trying to fix the gardens while we were arriving. They were still cleaning up and moving things out of the courtyard. We’re forced to eat in the dining hall. But no one complains because the hall is still BEAUTIFUL.

I meet some nice students in the dining hall. Well, I’ve been meeting nice students all week.

8:00pm: After dinner a lot of students mill about and look around the campus just to get used to it. A group of students have already scouted out the city and one girl suggests going to a local pub she found. Me and some other students opt to go with her.

8:30pm: We find this niche little pub under a bridge in the middle of the city. It’s called Turf tavern. The girl remarks that she would’ve found it if there hadn’t been such loud music coming from the alley the night before. As we walk into the tight alley, I see brightly colored confetti litter the dark street, making the place seem both ominous and whimsical. We turn a corner and see the pub. It’s a lot nicer than I thought, very well lit. The sun is still up for the most part at this point. In England this time of year it doesn’t officially set until 11pm and still rises at 4am. There are a lot of older people relaxing at outside tables

I remark to one of the girls that I don’t like beer. She suggests cider, which is sweeter. The pub has and apple and pear cider, so I order a pint. We get our drinks and sit down at the table. The cider is better(to me at least.) It still has that after taste that I suppose it present in beer, but it’s sweeter, and I can taste the pears. On girl get a harder cider, and which smells almost exactly like rubbing alcohol. Mine isn’t nearly that heavy. Everyone else gets a pint of beers. We all sit in the pleasant evening and talk about our travel experiences before the program. Most of the pub is actually outdoors and it’s very chill at that time. The girl who initially found it said that it had been louder and more party-like before.

9:00pm: We leave the pub and head back to the college. While we walk past the Bodleian, an even bigger group of students seem to be headed where we were leaving. They plan on going to the King’s Arms, a larger, more well-known pub. Half of our group decides to join them. I join the half that decides to go back to campus. Our tours and orientations start early in the morning, and I want to be open and ready for that.

10:30pm: I go to bed.

#Day 4

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