More from Lisi

Denise and Lisi just arrived in the Netherlands. Here is the ditty she wrote about her interview:
LE INTERVIEW!
I was very, very nervous the morning of, so to calm my nerves, I listened to some Fratellis and then Lily Allen while dancing around madly to get in the English spirit! Denise and I headed to Queens’ College in the icy midday weather. Once we arrived at the office for Queens’ (which, ironically, is the smallest and least-imposing of all the Colleges of Cambridge – of course I pick the one college that looks like it could have been Anne Boleyn’s summer cottage), I met a nice English girl and we headed up to the group meeting room, but not until Denise could snap a photo of me all dolled up. In the group room, I chatted a bit with some very nice kids: one girl from Pakistan, one from another part of England, and a guy originally from New York but living in Denmark. He was actually sort of a creeper. Oh well.
So, at about 2:50, all four of us headed up to the top floor of the Cripps building, which houses the classrooms for the college, to take a written test. About ten or twelve of us were there in total, with only two guys out of the lot, which amused us all. Before the proctor arrived, we all chatted a little and the other interviewees, once they found out I was from California, asked me if I was jet-lagged, et cetera.
Once the proctor arrived, we took our written exam, a nice little essay about a 17th-century poem, ‘The Mower’s Song’, which I tried to spice up with lots of punchy adjectives and the like. After we finished the essay, I bolted out of the building and literally ran (or as much as I could in the world’s most painful flats. Aren’t flats supposed to be comfortable?) to the Fisher Building, where my interview was scheduled.
I was a little shaky with nervousness before they called me in, and the professor who opened the door offered his hand to me, which I of course, in my idiocy, took as a sign that he wanted to see my confirmation paper. He of course jovially replied “Well, I was going to shake your hand.” Ah, I knew I couldn’t get through the interview without making an ass of myself at least once, so that was out of the way.
The two kind professors (both men, one around 50ish and the other late 30s) proceeded to jump right in to the questions, asking me the literature I was familiar with and then the poetry. Our subjects began with the Beats, ranged to Whitman, Steinbeck, segued to Shakespeare, Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, and then to a poem entitled “Break, break, break”, which we explicated in depth. Then, it was all over! They seemed pleased with my answers – and I felt absolutely overjoyed with the in-depth, intellectual, free-flowing conversation I’d just had. Because that’s what it felt like – a conversation. Good times.