As you can tell its been a while since my last entry. I've been swept up with preparing for the April break and now enjoying the April break. I'll recap what I've been doing in the last couple of weeks:
May 29 I stayed with Katie in London where we toured the city in true Palumbo fashion. With my map of the tube and city, thanks Aunt Sue, and Katie's London guide we saw everything there was to see in fast forward! My favorite of these sites was the Tower of London! I'll enumerate the rest since we saw a lot: a London musical, Dicken's house, the Tower Bridge, Big Ben, the London Eye, Buckingham Palace, The London Dungeons, the British Museum. In short we walked from one end of the city seeing as much as we could in two days time.
Next we were off to Paris, France. Unfortunately the trip over resulted in the absence of my debit card. Note to all those looking to change banks HSBC is the worst bank to invest in. Every day in France I spent at least two hours on the phone with my bank trying to solve what I thought was resolved the day before. Despite this mishap Paris was wonderful. The city, the food, the language and the people are all beutiful. Katie and I saw it all: the Palace of Versaille, Notre Dame, the Louve, the Arc de Truimph, the Eliffel Tower. We were shocked by the Mona Lisa, and in awe of the Palace of Versaille. In edition the food in Paris was the most devine thing I've taasted in months.
Katie left and I was off to Kassel, Germany to visit my friend Tanja. As it turns out Kassel was the birth place of the Grimms brothers! I pleasently suprised to fall in love with Germany. But I'll have to write later since I'm now in Scotland and fiona wants to go walking!
TaTa for Now! (as Tiger would say)
Saturday, 18 April 2009
Thursday, 12 March 2009
Style in the UK is insane. Everyone wears what ever they feel like, as long as it's completely bizzar and unorthodox. So it comes as no surprise that hair styles in the UK are bold and crazy. Naturally I couldn't wait to get a new doo! I went into the shopping plaza on Monday. The first place i saw was Super Cuts. Go figure an American company. But the hair stylist at Super Cuts was super cute so I waled right in. I might as well just say it now: best hair cit of my life! I got a head massage, and a free coffee!
Apparently the employees at the Hair salon get free coffee so when my hair dresser asked another employee if she could get him a cup of coffee he asked me if i would like one too. Of course, I would! How about a cafe mocha? I asked. he gave me a look like really out of all the different coffee drinks you have to want the most elaborate drink? Ok fine, I'd be really happy with a black coffee too. So a black coffee it was.
The hair cut must have taken an hour. He put loads of different texture structuring products in my hair. One he had to clap over my head for the product to land correctly in my hair. And all this after I was unable to tell him the brand of shampoo I use.
Now for the people who haven't seen me, my hair looks British. I've had several people ask me for directions since I've had it done. It's so funny, they think I'm British!
For my family who haven't seen my new look, don't be shocked. I have fringe. Or as us Americans say bangs. I'm totally rock'n my new look! I feel very British now.
Apparently the employees at the Hair salon get free coffee so when my hair dresser asked another employee if she could get him a cup of coffee he asked me if i would like one too. Of course, I would! How about a cafe mocha? I asked. he gave me a look like really out of all the different coffee drinks you have to want the most elaborate drink? Ok fine, I'd be really happy with a black coffee too. So a black coffee it was.
The hair cut must have taken an hour. He put loads of different texture structuring products in my hair. One he had to clap over my head for the product to land correctly in my hair. And all this after I was unable to tell him the brand of shampoo I use.
Now for the people who haven't seen me, my hair looks British. I've had several people ask me for directions since I've had it done. It's so funny, they think I'm British!
For my family who haven't seen my new look, don't be shocked. I have fringe. Or as us Americans say bangs. I'm totally rock'n my new look! I feel very British now.
Saturday, 21 February 2009
why are english people all so polite?
Here's my theory, it has to do with the que. Here in England nothing is as respected and honored as the order one stands in a line. Everyone has to stand in a line everyday for at least ten minutes a day. If someone jumps the que he/she is insulting all the people patiently waiting and could be the difference between those people getting on a bus and being on time for an appointment or being late. It is understood that if people wait their turn eventually they will be taken care of; if not, a que jumper will be the target of everyone else's disdain. Waiting in line for the bus, or the cashier may be a chronic test of my patience, but English people have been bred from infancy to be calm and wait.
This theory is the result of an afternoon spent in crowded hustling stores, and of days waiting in all sorts of weather for the bus. It is a work in progress and will require further analysis.
This theory is the result of an afternoon spent in crowded hustling stores, and of days waiting in all sorts of weather for the bus. It is a work in progress and will require further analysis.
Friday, 20 February 2009
football
I joined the club football team. My first practice was on Monday and consequently I haven't been able to walk the entire week. hahaha. Never-the-less I had forgotten how much I love to play and I'm glad to get to play.
The coach asked me where on the pitch I played and I didn't know what to tell him. Partly because he said pitch and partly because I can't understand a single thing he says. This morning at practice I commented on the fact that I didn't have cleats, and it was his turn to give me a funny look before correcting me: blades.
The coach asked me where on the pitch I played and I didn't know what to tell him. Partly because he said pitch and partly because I can't understand a single thing he says. This morning at practice I commented on the fact that I didn't have cleats, and it was his turn to give me a funny look before correcting me: blades.
Thursday, 12 February 2009
The Bet
Sunday was just one of those days that nothing could go wrong. I just woke up in a cheerful mood. I knew from here on out everything was going to be wonderful, which in my mind meant there was going to be no more snow. So, when I shared my optimistic outlook with my friend she did what any sane person would do; she took advantage of my euphoric state. She proposed a bet: if it snowed within the next week I treated to Starbucks coffee. Of course if it didn't I would be treated to a coffee. Now, I couldn't retract my previous statement that might ruin my good mood. So I agreed. Loser bought the winner a Starbucks coffee. (In my opinion getting Starbucks is a win-win situation!)
Needless to say, before the night was out I was owed my friend a coffee. So much for my good feeling.
Needless to say, before the night was out I was owed my friend a coffee. So much for my good feeling.
Monday, 9 February 2009
Candy Land
This post will be the full account of last Saturday. Sorry it took so long for me to write it.
My alarm went off at 6:30 a.m. waking me in time to make the 8:16 train. Although exhausted, I was anxious about the anticipated train trip and move quickly to got ready. I met up with the other girls, we all looked equally as weary. None of us got a full nights sleep.
The train ride was pleasant enough, with watching the scenic countryside and nibbling scrumptious muffins. Although Tom Hanks never did come bouncing down the aisle singing hot chocolate, and the conductor didn't punch "Believe" in my train ticket, I think it's an experience I'd love to try again.
There was a mix up with what station we were suppose to be at, but with the help of some nice tickets sales personal we were able to board the correct train and get to Cadbury World, despite my faulty directions.
The walk to Cadbury Factory took about ten minutes. It was easy to find, all we had to do was follow the purple trail. As we neared the factory everything began to smell of chocolate! MMMMMMM it smelled so good.
The museum was full of fun stuff to do. We walked through an interactive stimulation that taught us the history of Cadbury Chocolate. We learned how coco beans were processed, and turned into chocolate. Then we walked through packaging center. This was my favorite part. We saw the machines, and workers that packaged the Candy and saw it being sent out all over the world! We also got to see a demonstration of some of the chocolate makers decorating ornate chocolate shoes. At every station we received a new piece of chocolate! I walked away from that museum stocked with enough chocolate for a month.
*The film documentary on how the chocolate was made featured the cheerful workers of Ghana who harvest the coco beans. At the end of the tour there was a donation display soliciting for water pumps in Ghana.*
(Okay, that wasn't the full account. I'll try to do better next time. Maybe I'll get around to editing this one.)
My alarm went off at 6:30 a.m. waking me in time to make the 8:16 train. Although exhausted, I was anxious about the anticipated train trip and move quickly to got ready. I met up with the other girls, we all looked equally as weary. None of us got a full nights sleep.
The train ride was pleasant enough, with watching the scenic countryside and nibbling scrumptious muffins. Although Tom Hanks never did come bouncing down the aisle singing hot chocolate, and the conductor didn't punch "Believe" in my train ticket, I think it's an experience I'd love to try again.
There was a mix up with what station we were suppose to be at, but with the help of some nice tickets sales personal we were able to board the correct train and get to Cadbury World, despite my faulty directions.
The walk to Cadbury Factory took about ten minutes. It was easy to find, all we had to do was follow the purple trail. As we neared the factory everything began to smell of chocolate! MMMMMMM it smelled so good.
The museum was full of fun stuff to do. We walked through an interactive stimulation that taught us the history of Cadbury Chocolate. We learned how coco beans were processed, and turned into chocolate. Then we walked through packaging center. This was my favorite part. We saw the machines, and workers that packaged the Candy and saw it being sent out all over the world! We also got to see a demonstration of some of the chocolate makers decorating ornate chocolate shoes. At every station we received a new piece of chocolate! I walked away from that museum stocked with enough chocolate for a month.
*The film documentary on how the chocolate was made featured the cheerful workers of Ghana who harvest the coco beans. At the end of the tour there was a donation display soliciting for water pumps in Ghana.*
(Okay, that wasn't the full account. I'll try to do better next time. Maybe I'll get around to editing this one.)
Monday, 2 February 2009
The Snow Came to Visit
In twenty years Leicester hasn't seen anything like it: fluffy, packable, sparkling snow. I must admit, at first, I wasn't excited to welcome this change in weather, but after experiencing the affect it has on Leicester students I've changed my mind.
Apparently, in England, snow gives everyone a free ticket to be seven again! Bands of young man stood in key positions to attack public buses with snowballs, loads of students were building snow sculptures and some were trying to sled. These escapades where nothing in comparison with the winter night life. Starting about 7:00 at night gangs of boys we moving in groups ranging from 3 to 20. All looking for unsuspecting doors, windows, or people.
I joined a group of three who were vigorously trying to roll a huge snowball into the reception hall. This comedic trio reminded me of the Princes Bride. One seemed to be the worker. He was the one doing all the dirty work of pushing the snowball and the first to piecing it together if the snow ball fell apart; I thought he could be Inigo Montoya. His friend claimed to be a decedent of Vikings, which was easy to picture because he was huge with untamed hair. Occasionally, when told step in he helped Inigo and moved the ball much farther than Inigo had in ten minutes; obviously he was Andre the Giant. Finally, the last partner was a scrawny kid who sat back and informed the other two what to do claiming he couldn't help, because he had to roll his cigarette. It was clear he was Vizzini. The dynamics between the three very amusing to watch.
I stayed with them until a regiment of fifty boys came marching our way. They all had snowballs at hand, and all were heading to the dormitory complex across the street. Quickly, I made myself a snowball and joined the ranks.
Our arrival was met head on by another troop of fifty boys. The largest snowball fight in history quickly ensued. Snowballs we thrown left and right. I had to be on constant guard. I only saw one of my attempts hit the right target; I don't know if I got more than one.
The fight ended slowly as soldiers lost their interest and one-by-one headed home. I hope that if the snow sticks, so will people's enthusiasm.
Apparently, in England, snow gives everyone a free ticket to be seven again! Bands of young man stood in key positions to attack public buses with snowballs, loads of students were building snow sculptures and some were trying to sled. These escapades where nothing in comparison with the winter night life. Starting about 7:00 at night gangs of boys we moving in groups ranging from 3 to 20. All looking for unsuspecting doors, windows, or people.
I joined a group of three who were vigorously trying to roll a huge snowball into the reception hall. This comedic trio reminded me of the Princes Bride. One seemed to be the worker. He was the one doing all the dirty work of pushing the snowball and the first to piecing it together if the snow ball fell apart; I thought he could be Inigo Montoya. His friend claimed to be a decedent of Vikings, which was easy to picture because he was huge with untamed hair. Occasionally, when told step in he helped Inigo and moved the ball much farther than Inigo had in ten minutes; obviously he was Andre the Giant. Finally, the last partner was a scrawny kid who sat back and informed the other two what to do claiming he couldn't help, because he had to roll his cigarette. It was clear he was Vizzini. The dynamics between the three very amusing to watch.
I stayed with them until a regiment of fifty boys came marching our way. They all had snowballs at hand, and all were heading to the dormitory complex across the street. Quickly, I made myself a snowball and joined the ranks.
Our arrival was met head on by another troop of fifty boys. The largest snowball fight in history quickly ensued. Snowballs we thrown left and right. I had to be on constant guard. I only saw one of my attempts hit the right target; I don't know if I got more than one.
The fight ended slowly as soldiers lost their interest and one-by-one headed home. I hope that if the snow sticks, so will people's enthusiasm.
Sunday, 1 February 2009
Just Any Old Sunday
The day began as any Sunday would--getting up ridiculously to go to mass. (When I say ridiculously I mean around eight to catch the bus for 9:30 mass.) Unbeknown to myself, or Megan, bus don't start running until 9:31 on Sunday mornings. Now 9:30 mass being out of the question, we settle on getting breakfast to waste time until 11:00 mass started.
The first place we find is Leicester's equivalent to an Applebee's. This chain is all around Leicester disguised with different names, but serving the same menu.
Now remember, by the time we walk in the restaurant/bar it is only 9:45 in the morning. Everyone in the place is drinking either a beer or mixed drink. Old ladies are in in the back corner having a lovely reunion over a fine brew. The elderly men behind us have no teeth, but at least two beers a piece. A young woman next to us is downing her mixed drink in order to get started on the wine she just ordered, and her boyfriend is content with the beer in front of him. I take this to be the status quo, but I have an urge to inform everyone that it's not yet twelve. Just in case they didn't know the time.
We enter the church and the sun is shining brightly behind us. It's the first time I've seen the sun in days. We leave the church it's snowing. I didn't think it would but the snow stuck. There's still snow on the ground and black ice everywhere. Sometimes I wonder why I didn't go to Australia. I wish Le Moyne had a study abroad exchange with Hawaii.
The first place we find is Leicester's equivalent to an Applebee's. This chain is all around Leicester disguised with different names, but serving the same menu.
Now remember, by the time we walk in the restaurant/bar it is only 9:45 in the morning. Everyone in the place is drinking either a beer or mixed drink. Old ladies are in in the back corner having a lovely reunion over a fine brew. The elderly men behind us have no teeth, but at least two beers a piece. A young woman next to us is downing her mixed drink in order to get started on the wine she just ordered, and her boyfriend is content with the beer in front of him. I take this to be the status quo, but I have an urge to inform everyone that it's not yet twelve. Just in case they didn't know the time.
We enter the church and the sun is shining brightly behind us. It's the first time I've seen the sun in days. We leave the church it's snowing. I didn't think it would but the snow stuck. There's still snow on the ground and black ice everywhere. Sometimes I wonder why I didn't go to Australia. I wish Le Moyne had a study abroad exchange with Hawaii.
Wednesday, 28 January 2009
British Military Training
Trepid with uncertainty, I walked into the gym hall where more than 50 people were finishing up the previous aerobic class. Most people were huddled in groups of five chatting away about this or that. I slipped next to an athletic looking boy, who, like me, didn't seem to be here with anyone else. Lucky for me I thought. I'll just stand close enough to him that people will think I'm not alone. Then I'll follow his lead and won't be completely lost. My plan was only flawed in that I had no clue what was happening and he didn't see to want to chat. I resigned myself to being an outcast and stood anonymously, scanning the room for a hint to what to do.
A older gentleman walked the center of the room. Everyone else, at this point, hugged the perimeter of the gym, still lost in conversation. Out of no the man pulled a whistle and gave it two short blasts. Immediately, without batting an eye, everyone in the room commenced moving. Some jumped up and down, the people next to me started doing sit-ups, one group was hurdling benches, and others were doing calf raises. Still dumb founded I stuck to my original plan: do exactly what the kid next to me is doing, which was hard to decipher, so I just start jumping around.
By this point I've figured out this is not the weight resistance circuit training I'd anticipated. The room is full of about 20 stations. Each station is a different aerobic activity: running, jumping rope, and wall squats. At each station are about five people. Anyone doing the math can determine there were about 100 people in that room. 100 hot, sweaty, panting athletes. I got to about the second station before I could barely breath due to a lack of clean air. I bet I smelled pretty bad, but unfortunately for me the worst sweat-transgressor seems to be a hairy bald guy in the group in front of me. Every time he got up from sit-ups he left a fresh layer of moist sweat behind. He was wearing a thin white beater that did little to cover his bear-like back hair. After walking past him once--smelling the most horrendous odor I'd ever wafted--my only objective for the rest of the night was not to be in sniffing range of that man. I made it through the rest of the night fairly unsuccessful: his stink left a trail to each station.
The two circuits we completed ended the same why they began. Everyone just knew when to stop and in unison started to clap. This time I joined in vivaciously. I couldn't wait to be as far away from the smelling man as possible!
However, the workout was not quite over. People started picking up mats, which I thought meant we should all chip in to pick up, so I picked up a paper sign that had one of the station's direction on it and looked around for where it belonged. But people who knew what was happening had taken their mates and were having a seat on the ground. The older man with the whistle said something that was undecipherable, so I stood dumb-faced with my piece of paper in hand. Then the whistle man said something again and everyone ran to take a seat. Apparently we didn't move quick enough for him, so everyone had to do five push-ups. Then he continued to speak some incomprehensible form of British and yelled "Oye." A small group of people yelled back at him. Again, we had to do five push-ups. This time when he yelled "Oye" I made sure to raise my fist and give a hearty "Oye."
The workout continued by him leading us in various strange exercise that were all but impossible. When he finally released us I ran for the door, and left the clean up for someone else to do.
Maybe I'll go back. But only so I can see if the faces of any new comers are as baffled as I was.
A older gentleman walked the center of the room. Everyone else, at this point, hugged the perimeter of the gym, still lost in conversation. Out of no the man pulled a whistle and gave it two short blasts. Immediately, without batting an eye, everyone in the room commenced moving. Some jumped up and down, the people next to me started doing sit-ups, one group was hurdling benches, and others were doing calf raises. Still dumb founded I stuck to my original plan: do exactly what the kid next to me is doing, which was hard to decipher, so I just start jumping around.
By this point I've figured out this is not the weight resistance circuit training I'd anticipated. The room is full of about 20 stations. Each station is a different aerobic activity: running, jumping rope, and wall squats. At each station are about five people. Anyone doing the math can determine there were about 100 people in that room. 100 hot, sweaty, panting athletes. I got to about the second station before I could barely breath due to a lack of clean air. I bet I smelled pretty bad, but unfortunately for me the worst sweat-transgressor seems to be a hairy bald guy in the group in front of me. Every time he got up from sit-ups he left a fresh layer of moist sweat behind. He was wearing a thin white beater that did little to cover his bear-like back hair. After walking past him once--smelling the most horrendous odor I'd ever wafted--my only objective for the rest of the night was not to be in sniffing range of that man. I made it through the rest of the night fairly unsuccessful: his stink left a trail to each station.
The two circuits we completed ended the same why they began. Everyone just knew when to stop and in unison started to clap. This time I joined in vivaciously. I couldn't wait to be as far away from the smelling man as possible!
However, the workout was not quite over. People started picking up mats, which I thought meant we should all chip in to pick up, so I picked up a paper sign that had one of the station's direction on it and looked around for where it belonged. But people who knew what was happening had taken their mates and were having a seat on the ground. The older man with the whistle said something that was undecipherable, so I stood dumb-faced with my piece of paper in hand. Then the whistle man said something again and everyone ran to take a seat. Apparently we didn't move quick enough for him, so everyone had to do five push-ups. Then he continued to speak some incomprehensible form of British and yelled "Oye." A small group of people yelled back at him. Again, we had to do five push-ups. This time when he yelled "Oye" I made sure to raise my fist and give a hearty "Oye."
The workout continued by him leading us in various strange exercise that were all but impossible. When he finally released us I ran for the door, and left the clean up for someone else to do.
Maybe I'll go back. But only so I can see if the faces of any new comers are as baffled as I was.
Tuesday, 27 January 2009
How to Talk British
Although some may say British people speak English, communication is more complicated than one would first imagine. For several reasons cross-Atlantic communication is almost implausible.
First of all, no two British accents are alike. There are such a wide range of accents in England that make it more than impossible to understand some people, while others conversation flows effortlessly. The posh Hugh Grant accent I was expecting is hardly in ear shot. Apparently his accent is an Southern academia accent. Here in Leicester, I'm told, most of the people speak with a southern influence, although none really sounding like Hugh Grant. As I'm told northerners seem to be a bit more lazy with their speech and tend to blur words together. I think it's the northern accents that leave me staring blankly at some unfortunate souls. The longer I stay the better I will be able to spot the differences between accents, and, even more impressively, the better I will be able to understand all of them.
Another interference in communicating with the English is slang. Here's a list of words and phrases that aren't quite the same in both countries:
Brolly= Umbrella
Trousers= Pants
Pants= Underwear
Are you alright?= How ya doin'?
Lift= Elevator
Cheers= Thanks/Hi/(whatever you want it to mean)
Toilet= Bathroom
Bathroom= your going to have to pee your trousers unless you think to use the term toilet
kilograms= i don't really know how much I lifted at the gym yesterday
pitch= soccer field
blades= cleats
football= soccer
American Football= football
fit= hot (good looking)
Note: hand gestures are also not the same. A backwards peace sign that in America would mean "I'll catch you later dude" is equivalent to the middle finger in England.
I've heard of a few other differences, but none that I've had to deal with. When I do come a cross a difference I'll be sure to update this list!
First of all, no two British accents are alike. There are such a wide range of accents in England that make it more than impossible to understand some people, while others conversation flows effortlessly. The posh Hugh Grant accent I was expecting is hardly in ear shot. Apparently his accent is an Southern academia accent. Here in Leicester, I'm told, most of the people speak with a southern influence, although none really sounding like Hugh Grant. As I'm told northerners seem to be a bit more lazy with their speech and tend to blur words together. I think it's the northern accents that leave me staring blankly at some unfortunate souls. The longer I stay the better I will be able to spot the differences between accents, and, even more impressively, the better I will be able to understand all of them.
Another interference in communicating with the English is slang. Here's a list of words and phrases that aren't quite the same in both countries:
Brolly= Umbrella
Trousers= Pants
Pants= Underwear
Are you alright?= How ya doin'?
Lift= Elevator
Cheers= Thanks/Hi/(whatever you want it to mean)
Toilet= Bathroom
Bathroom= your going to have to pee your trousers unless you think to use the term toilet
kilograms= i don't really know how much I lifted at the gym yesterday
pitch= soccer field
blades= cleats
football= soccer
American Football= football
fit= hot (good looking)
Note: hand gestures are also not the same. A backwards peace sign that in America would mean "I'll catch you later dude" is equivalent to the middle finger in England.
I've heard of a few other differences, but none that I've had to deal with. When I do come a cross a difference I'll be sure to update this list!
Sunday, 25 January 2009
My Room
I deliberately signed up to share a room with someone. I thought it would be the best way to force myself to have a friend. However as soon as I got here I was given a single room. I didn't really think I would enjoy being isolated, but I must admit the privacy is delicious! I've already read a book and I never have to consider the feelings of a roommate. I don't know how I'll adjust to having a roommate when I go back to the states. Right now I'm loving having an entire room to myself!
Saturday, 24 January 2009
Phoenix Theater
Background: Phoenix theater is an independent cinema in the city center. It is an intimate setting with a cafe on the top floor and bar on the lower floor. It's become quite apparent that no one in Leicester is expected to do anything without a proper lager. Myself, not quite in the ale drinking spirit, was quite pleased to find they served ice cream! Aside from a few sparsely located Baskin Robins I haven't been able to spot any decent ice cream shops.
The Movie of the Night (drum roll please)... Slum Dog Millionaire. Wow, what a production. I can never again complain about being cold, or being hungry, or being poor. The movie was moving, inventive and eye opening. I can only imagine what the lady next to me thought as I squirmed to shield myself from some of the intense images on screen. Not that everyone would have this issue; I suffer from a meek heart. If you haven't already see this film; it is a glimpse of one life in the slums of India.
Getting to and from the movie theater wasn't bad at all. I really feel like I'm getting a handle on the bus system and the layout of the city center. It's been easy sailing for today, at least.
The Movie of the Night (drum roll please)... Slum Dog Millionaire. Wow, what a production. I can never again complain about being cold, or being hungry, or being poor. The movie was moving, inventive and eye opening. I can only imagine what the lady next to me thought as I squirmed to shield myself from some of the intense images on screen. Not that everyone would have this issue; I suffer from a meek heart. If you haven't already see this film; it is a glimpse of one life in the slums of India.
Getting to and from the movie theater wasn't bad at all. I really feel like I'm getting a handle on the bus system and the layout of the city center. It's been easy sailing for today, at least.
How I come to blog
Now that I've been in Leicester for more than a week I'm already forgetting what my first impressions were of the new people and places I'm seeing. This blog is to share my experiences and impressions of England with the people from home. I love you all and hope this is a better way to explain what I've seen and done whilst studying abroad...
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