"The Definition of Insanity is Doing the Same Thing Over and Over Again and Expecting Different Results" - Albert Einstein

Saturday, July 31, 2010

I'd Do Anything For You Dear, Anything

It has been a pretty amazing week here in the good old UK. In the past week I've gone on 2 backstage theatre tours, seen 4 different productions, ate numerous free meals courtesy of my wonderful visiting parents and somehow managed to meet Jonathan Groff.

That sentence rules so much it feels like it shouldn't exist. Let's try to top it.

Yesterday I went to Stonehenge, Bath and Windsor and today I visited Stratford.

Yup, I win.

This was like make Jaclyn's dreams come true week (oh hey reoccurring theme in this blog, we missed you). Because it is a bit late here and I did a lot of blog worthy things, I'm just gonna list them out.

1. I went and saw the Mousetrap. Performance #24, 031. I recommend it to everyone. Completely twist ending. Ruled.


2. I went and saw Henry IV part I at the Globe. The Globe theatre is amazing and I loved it. I stood for 3 consecutive hours and didn't mind at all. Also, Falstaff Rules.


3. Saw Julius Caesar at the Courtyard Theatre in Stratford Upon Avon by the Royal Shakespeare Company. Lots of fighting, blood and poetry. Makes perfect sense. And it ruled.
4. Visited Windsor Castle and saw the gigantic doll house of Queen Mary and my inner 5 year old went to heaven.
5. Went to the Roman Baths in (you guessed it) Bath. Also, saw the house where Jane Austen wrote most of her novels. Ruled.
6. Gave an homage to Spinal Tap at Stonehenge. Nigel would have been proud. And guess what? IT RULED! It might have been one of my favorite moments of the trip so far. Life is funny like that sometimes.



Also, I wrote a poem on the 2 hour train ride to Stratford. It's dedicated to William Blake. And Alison Sagara.

Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Little lamb I'll tell thee.

Little lamb, where goes thee?
Dost thou know where goes thee?
Little lamb I'll tell thee.

Karahi Gosht who eats thee?
Dost thou know who eats thee?
Karahi Gosht, I eat thee.

So Yummy and Delicious.


AND here it is, your moment of zen.


Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Personally I Always Preferred Lipton's

Interior, artificial lighting.

We see an open window, it is night outside. There is a cool breeze. Through the window we can see distant buildings, discernible by the rows of lights remaining on visible through their windows. Inside, a young girl, sits at a desk in a chair with wheels, illuminated by the backlight of her computer. She is surrounded by miscellaneous rubbish, and an open book.

She types. Stops, looks down at her open book, then continues.

She brushes the hair out of her eyes and then scratches the top of her head. Continues typing.

Voices can be heard out her window. She rolls her chair over to the ledge and looks downward. She stands, looks down for five seconds then gazes straight ahead. A small and electronic beep comes from her computer and she returns to sitting and typing.

After a few seconds she places her head on her right hand and stares. She smiles, then continues typing.

Another beep from the computer. She continues typing, then stops.

She lets out a sigh. Shivers and then rubs her hands on her arms. She rolls to the window, and closes it. She sits again and returns to typing.

She clicks again and music begins to play. The song is "To Be Alone With You" by Sufjan Stevens. She brushes the hair away from her face and continues to type.

She stops. Places her head on her left hand between the nose and the upper lip and sighs. She clicks. Blackout

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

All the World's a Stage

It's Theatre Week. Which means I'm in a constant state of Glee. Then again, that might be because I met Jonathan Groff yesterday (see previous blog post). In case you missed the story on that, I was walking along the street, and then Jonathan Groff was in front of me. And then he took a picture with me. And then I about peed my pants.

If you don't know who Jonathan Groff is, you should probably stop pretending like we are that good of friends. And then you should learn to use the interwebs and Google that shit.

Tonight I went and saw Oliver! and it was amazing! I highly recommend it to anyone who can go see it. The set is absolutely astonishing. There were so many levels, and the use of stage was so impressive. The cast was great, but a special shout out to Kerry Ellis as Nancy, Russ Abbot as Fagin, and the boy who played Oliver, who had one of the most amazing voices of anyone I've ever heard, let alone a small child. Also, during curtain call, the audience boo'd the guy playing Bill Sikes twice. And he was so pleased. It ruled.

Tomorrow we are studying the works of Samuel Beckett, which rules, because I enjoy weird and confusing things. Wonder why.

Oh, and I'm going to see The Mousetrap. Which also rules.

Friday, July 23, 2010

Retractions, Art, Illegality, and Espresso.

First things first, I have recently been informed by a very credible source that apparently, when William Blake uses slant rhyme in his poetry it is "brilliant in [its] deliberate use of slant rhymes. Like the images--such as the Tiger, who is deliberately and disturbingly too-docile--they constantly trouble our sense of pattern and expectation."

That being said, I admit that I probably judged Blake too harshly without truly understanding his poetry. Therefore, I retract the statement that he is a "nut-job lunatic" and a "no talent hack-job." You don't become one of the most anthologized poets ever by writing crap. You just don't.

I (unlike Fox News) am willing to present my readers with both sides of a story so that they can form an educated opinion for themselves. HOWEVER; I (in the exact same fashion as Fox News) still wish to assert that I personally continue to dislike the poetry of William Blake, and do still personally believe that he was absolutely less talented than Shakespeare, Orwell, and Lennon et all. And I am going to present this complete opinion as fact because this is my forum for doing so.

Moving Right Along:

The past three days can accurately be dubbed "Jaclyn looks at a lot of art from a lot of different mediums." I visited Somerset House and viewed the absolutely amazing collection of French Impressionist Art in the Courtauld Collection on Wednesday afternoon, which turned out to be free for full-time UK students (of which I am now *grins*) and was SO COOL. I absolutely recommend it to anyone coming to London. The architecture is stunning in and of itself, and it would be the highlight if the paintings weren't so damn famous and awesome. And they allow photography, so here are the highlights.

I love Degas Ballerinas. So Much.
Desperate Housewives Fans, this one's for you. (Alexa and Mom)
Probably my favorite Van Gogh I've ever seen in person. His eyes are staring right into your eyes no matter where you stand. And trust me, because I stared at this painting from every angle I could without looking like a complete idiot.
The perspective in this is amazing. Look at her body in the mirror.
And I love this painting. Awesome.

Then, on Thursday our class went to the Tate Modern to see the Exposed exhibit on Surveillance and Voyeurism and then we got to walk around the museum afterwards. The exhibit was really interesting and really uncomfortable in that it felt odd to be watching other people being watched unknowingly. But I wager that's also the point. Also, the Tate does not allow photography or any of its exhibits. Here are the pictures that I did not take illegally in the Tate Modern.

Roy Liechtenstein. There was another really cool one but it was being heavily guarded by curators :(
Warhol Self Portrait. I actually have pictures of like 4 Warhols from the museum on my camera. They should probably put some guards in that room.

Also, this picture is perfectly legal, because it came from the top floor. Here you can see St. Paul's Cathedral, and the Millennium Bridge. I walked across this bridge upon leaving the Tate, but apparently its wobbliness was corrected during the reconstruction following the attack of Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters. Imagine my dismay.

Then today, after an extensive tour of everywhere one should go to get a good cup of espresso, I went and toured the National Gallery again because the first time was basically a dry sprint. And unfortunately, every single room in the NG has its own staff member waiting to behead you for even reaching for something in your pocket that looks like a camera. So instead, here are the pictures of the espresso I had this morning.

This is a cafe Vienna from Freud's in SOHO. It comes with whipped cream.

This is a Flat White from the coffee shop Flat White. And it was really really good.

And we walked by the theatre that Hair is playing at. And I might have seen Gavin Creel when I was walking on the street, but he didn't have a jacket on and his hair was too long so it probably wasn't him. But he looked just like him. And then I had to explain to my two non-theatre-maniac companions why that was awesome, and why I liked Gavin Creel and then obviously who Jonathan Groff is. And I felt simultaneously sad and awesome. (This comment goes out to Andy, incase anyone who knows both him and I couldn't possibly guess that on their own).

Mom and Dad arrive here tomorrow morning, so for the next week, you should expect a lot more pictures of me with expensive looking food. I love my family. Just about as much as I enjoy Oxford Commas. Take that Vampire Weekend.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Questions without Answers

You might be asking yourself, Why is Jaclyn posting a blog at 7:30 in the morning. Isn't that when she normally sleeps?

You might be asking yourself, What is that awful loud noise, and why aren't I asleep anymore, and am I in the middle of a London bombing right now? Quick, to the fallout shelter!

Maybe you should have asked yourself if it would have been a good idea to grab shoes before you go outside. Or pants even.

You might be asking yourself, if it was a good idea to schedule a fire drill for this early in the morning, and a as a follow up, if it was a good idea for a delivery truck to arrive in the courtyard at the same time.

You could be considering that because you have no clock you don't even know what time it is, and that you aren't really sure if it's one day or the next.

You could be confused as to why everyone seems so calm, because you don't speak any english and you have no idea what's going on.

You could be in Rockdale.

You could be "absolutely mortified" at this situation.

But you are probably just asleep, where as I am not.

Monday, July 19, 2010

Procrastination, Portobello and Poofs

I have a paper do on William Blake tomorrow morning, so obviously, I'm going to post a really long blog entry on entirely different subject matter instead of edit it for perfection. But before I do that, I really need to let out some personal feelings that I cannot keep inside anymore (Sorry in advance to anyone who is offended by these revelations [and in particular, Sean, if you wouldn't mention this to any of the professors here I would greatly appreciate it]). Well, here goes.

I hate William Blake. I think he was a nut-job lunatic and I don't think his poetry is all that exciting. Lets be serious for a second, how hard is it to rhyme couplets? Not that hard. I could totally do it. The fact the he occasionally uses slant rhyme REALLY bothers me, because a writer of his caliber should not be using it. Also, I hate the poem "Tyger, Tyger." It is probably Blake's most famous and anthologized poem. And I think it's awful. TRY AND SYMMETRY ARE NOT RHYMING WORDS. I wrote a poem about it actually myself.

It cannot be that hard to rhyme
I'm sure I'd do it all the time
And never would I use a slant
Cause slant rhyme is for no talent hack-jobs who think their readers don't know how to accurately pronounce words.

In case is gives any legitimacy to this absolutely pointless rant, I submit as evidence a conversation I had with my friend Bryan while we were working on our papers.

B: I just read on Wikipedia that someone said that William Blake was the greatest artist to come out of Britain ever.

J: Are they serious?

B: Better than Shakespeare apparently

J: No. No. Not better than Shakespeare. He’s not better than Tennyson for sure, or Robert or EB Browning. Or Orwell.

B: Not better than John Lennon. Fuck it, Blake’s not even better than Ringo.

There you have it. Blake is not even a better artist than Ringo. Ok, I'm done now.


I suppose you all would much rather hear about my exciting weekend plans. It has been an amazing few days here in bonny England. On Saturday we took a trip out to Portobello Road (Street where the riches of ages are stowed) and walked around for a while. The street is really cool. Because it was a Saturday, all of the shop owners set up tables outside on the street and you can browse to your merry hearts content for just about anything you’d want. Bargaining is key, so it’s a good thing that I’m a savvy shopper. I left with an antique book of the collected poems of Alfred Lord Tennyson and a fabulous dress. It's cool, I'm a stylish English Nerd.

Then that night we all got dressed up and went out to dinner and then to see Billy Elliot at the Victoria Palace Theatre. We had dinner at this delicious Italian restaurant across the street called Prezzo, and I forgot how much I miss pizza. Pizza is so good when done well. I've never been so happy to be geographically close to Italy.

Doesn't everyone look dapper? I'm wearing my new dress from Portobello in this picture too.

The show was absolutely amazing. This was actually the second time I have seen it; the first time I had to make up a new adjective to describe how awesome it was, and this time I was just speechless. I'm always gobsmacked when I leave that show. I'll go on record recommending it to anyone, and if you go and see this show and don't at least enjoy it for the absolute unparalleled amount of talent possessed by the cast then you probably aren't human.

Guess I'll get back to work on my paper now, but I'm sure there'll be more posts soon.

Procrastination, Portobello and Poofs

I have a paper do on William Blake tomorrow morning, so obviously, I'm going to post a really long blog entry on entirely different subject matter instead of edit it for perfection. But before I do that, I really need to let out some personal feelings that I cannot keep inside anymore (Sorry in advance to anyone who is offended by these revelations [and in particular, Sean, if you wouldn't mention this to any of the professors here I would greatly appreciate it]). Well, here goes.

I hate William Blake. I think he was a nut-job lunatic and I don't think his poetry is all that exciting. Lets be serious for a second, how hard is it to rhyme couplets? Not that hard. I could totally do it. The fact the he occasionally uses slant rhyme REALLY bothers me, because a writer of his caliber should not be using it. Also, I hate the poem "Tyger, Tyger." It is probably Blake's most famous and anthologized poem. And I think it's awful. TRY AND SYMMETRY ARE NOT RHYMING WORDS. I wrote a poem about it actually myself.

It cannot be that hard to rhyme
I'm sure I'd do it all the time
And never would I use a slant
Cause slant rhyme is for no talent hack-jobs who think their readers don't know how to accurately pronounce words.

In case is gives any legitimacy to this absolutely pointless rant, I submit as evidence a conversation I had with my friend Bryan while we were working on our papers.

B: I just read on Wikipedia that someone said that William Blake was the greatest artist to come out of Britain ever.

J: Are they serious?

B: Better than Shakespeare apparently

J: No. No. Not better than Shakespeare. He’s not better than Tennyson for sure, or Robert or EB Browning. Or Orwell.

B: Not better than John Lennon. Fuck it, Blake’s not even better than Ringo.

There you have it. Blake is not even a better artist than Ringo. Ok, I'm done now.


I suppose you all would much rather hear about my exciting weekend plans. It has been an amazing few days here in bonny England. On Saturday we took a trip out to Portobello Road (Street where the riches of ages are stowed) and walked around for a while. The street is really cool. Because it was a Saturday, all of the shop owners set up tables outside on the street and you can browse to your merry hearts content for just about anything you’d want. Bargaining is key, so it’s a good thing that I’m a savvy shopper. I left with an antique book of the collected poems of Alfred Lord Tennyson and a fabulous dress. It's cool, I'm a stylish English Nerd.

Then that night we all got dressed up and went out to dinner and then to see Billy Elliot at the Victoria Palace Theatre. We had dinner at this delicious Italian restaurant across the street called Prezzo, and I forgot how much I miss pizza. Pizza is so good when done well. I've never been so happy to be geographically close to Italy.

Doesn't everyone look dapper? I'm wearing my new dress from Portobello in this picture too.

The show was absolutely amazing. This was actually the second time I have seen it; the first time I had to make up a new adjective to describe how awesome it was, and this time I was just speechless. I'm always gobsmacked when I leave that show. I'll go on record recommending it to anyone, and if you go and see this show and don't at least enjoy it for the absolute unparalleled amount of talent possessed by the cast then you probably aren't human.

Guess I'll get back to work on my paper now, but I'm sure there'll be more posts soon.


Friday, July 16, 2010

A Rose By Any Other Name Would Smell As Sweet

Over the last few days I (with some mandatory encouragement from the University of Greenwich teach staff) thought it might be nice to take in some of the English Countryside. First of all let me just say, that the coolest thing about England is how the historical and lush countryside even exists at all, especially only a few short hours outside of the marble and industrial area of central London. I am absolutely fascinated by how diverse a country England is, in every conceivable way. Everything fits together here in a way as if they shouldn't. Diversity among the people, the landscape, the accents, even the jams to put on scones are different here. It makes me view London as this hodge-podge-esque city which is a combination of the new and the old to form a present. That was a rather long winded and convoluted way of saying that there is diversity here, but that seems to be the English way of saying (and writing, thanks Wordsworth) and doings things.

On Wednesday afternoon I took a trip out to Hampton Court via train and found the delightful English equivalent of suburbia. It reminded me of where I am from most of England so far, which is to say that I found a street with atleast three different cafes and Hampton is much better looking than Powell is. Here's a view of a Hampton dock on the River Thames

We had signed up for this amazing tour of the Hampton Gardens and I have never seen such a large and beautiful garden before. We don't have garden's like this in America. This palace used to belong to Henry VIII, and if you know anything about him or the Tudors, they knew how to live in the lap of luxury, and you can see it in this garden. Here is a far view of the Court from the back of the Privy Garden. This is about maybe 1/5 of the Garden you can see in this shot.


We saw the worlds oldest and largest grape vine, which is confined to a greenhouse and is looked after year round by one attendant. I'd probably consider that the best job any gardener can have. Put that on your resume and you could work in any garden in the world I bet. I would totally let that person cut lawn.

On Thursday we drove out into Kent, which is gorgeous and I have decided that I am going to live there. Preferably in a castle, but I could be flexible. Anyone who knows any available English Earls, Dukes, or Lords who live in Kent should forward that information to me please.

Our first stop was at Lullingstone Roman Villa, where we could see remains of the Roman civilization that colonized Brittania way back in the day. Here is the ruins:


Following that, we visited the remains of a Norman Castle, which you were allowed to climb on. So that was fun. On the inside, I'm about 7 years old. Obviously.

Last stop of the Day was Hever Castle, which was the childhood home of Anne Boleyn, and probably where I am going to spend the rest of my life. With any luck, I can follow Anne's example and achieve everything she did in her life. (Just kidding, I would never be seen in a velvet green floor length gown. Everything else though is cool). But seriously, Gardens and Castle: Astonishing.

This is a view of the Tudor Gardens with the castle in the background. I really like this fountain. I could probably eat scones from this spot while I was drinking tea and reading. I'd find a way to make that work.


Here is a view of Hever Castle from the front. Drawbridge over the moat is pretty cool. Would be good for keeping out unwanted guests, but I assume it would be difficult to have food delivered.

Here's a few shots from the Rose Garden, which was absolutely gorgeous. It felt like being in the book The Secret Garden.





If I could have a garden like this I would totally be ok with being beheaded later in life.

Also, I took about 6 pictures of swans at Hever Castle. This one is my favorite, but the full collection is on my facebook album. I also uploaded all of my pictures up to date, so if you are enjoying the pictures but not my jabbering (thanks dad), or if you are enjoying both (thanks everyone else), you can lots and lots of pictures there.

Today I went to Leicester Square and took a pilgrimage to the "Best Coffee Shop in London" according to a credible source found by my friend Bryan. And I had the best Cappuccino I have ever had, so I recommend it. It's located on Monmouth Street, near Seven Dials, and is small and busy. And Delicious.

I also took a tour of Camden town which is sketchy but also extremely fun. There was lots of shopping and outdoor markets and food stands which was perfect because the weather here (and especially today) has been absolutely gorgeous. People reading this in Ohio should probably be jealous of that if not of everything else I put in this fantastic blog.

Tomorrow I will be visiting Portobello Road Market and I fully intend on singing the song of the same name from Bedknobs and Broomsticks while I'm there. Now if only Angela Lansbury were here, it would be the perfect recreation of a childhood dream. But since she's not, I guess I'll just have to settle for bargaining and seeing Billy Elliot in the evening. Life can be so hard sometimes.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Dreams of Umbrellas and Clotted Cream

I woke up this morning and it was (finally) foggy and rainy. I have to say, I was actually pleased. This morning really felt like I was living in a London moment. I expect to see the Queen at any moment.

Note to Self: Seeing London is awesome, but you must remember to sleep also, because when you don't sleep your brain doesn't function and when your brain doesn't function you can't go see things in London.

General Comment: Every single night, a cluster of European pre-teens thinks its cool to go get drunk and then come to the courtyard outside my window and make as much noise as they possibly can. Whoever is in charge of this, you have until tomorrow night to make this stop, or I'm gonna starting picking them off with a supersoaker.

That being said, I feel like my life is simultaneously moving at warp speed and yet it's as if I'm standing still. "Time" as a concept here is absolutely unreal. This might be partially coming from my obsession with Big Ben, but Time here is seriously different than Time in the US.

Over the course of the past two days I've been traipsing through London, writing my first paper, eating scones, visiting museums (fo free!) and basically doing as much as any human can possibly do. And it has only been two days. Time moves fast here, but also slow.

Here are the highlights:

On Monday I took a trip into Hyde Park area with some people in my group and toured the National History Museum and the Victoria and Albert. Both are amazing and gigantic. The NHM is one of the most gorgeous buildings I've ever seen. Here's a picture of the Great Hall

In this picture you can see the skeleton of a Diplodocus. There is an amazing exhibit about dinosaurs, but my favorite was a taxidermy collection of just about every animal to ever exist, including some skeletons of extinct ones (Do-Do's are totally real; I'm officially sorry I ever doubted them). This included a Blue Whale, at its actual size. Which is Large. Extremely Large. Like the size of a small yacht large. Pretty Awesome.

Victoria and Albert has an impressive art collection, as well as just about any other object you could conceive seeing in a museum, and probably some other's you couldn't. My favorite was this antique (understatement) harpsichord, as well as one of Leonardo Da Vinci's notebooks (completely written in code).


Today we took the tube to Westminster and saw the sights. First stop, Westminster Bridge. I took about 13 photos of Big Ben from about 6 different angles all within a 10 minute interval. Here's my favorite shot:


I'm becoming steadily more and more obsessed with this building. The most amazing thing to me is how different it looks in person to how it looks in pictures. Obviously it is the same building, but the details are so much more profound and the intricacies of the clock itself are everything. It is such an icon.

From there we walked around Westminster, saw the outside of the Houses of Parliament, the locations of London bomb shelters during WWII and most importantly, the outside of one of the alleged brothels Oscar Wilde frequented. London the only city in the world where you can find a former gay bar next to the homes of members of government.

...

Actually, I take that back, that's probably false. London is the only city that would celebrate it proudly (WOOHOOO).

Following our walking tour we strolled through St James' Park, which is absolutely beautiful. We saw the pelicans, and a far view of Buckingham Palace. This picture is a view of Whitehall from behind. Note the swan in the bottom left corner. It's Odette.


Our final stop of the day was to the National Gallery, which was almost so unreal I can't describe it. There are so many more paintings in there than I could even see in one visit that I have to go back. And we saw some amazing artwork, Renoir, Van Gogh, Velasquez, Da Vinci, Monet and so many more. My favorite painting is The Umbrellas by Renoir, but the Rockeby Venus by Velasquez was also pretty amazing. If you ever come to London, I insist you go. It will blow your mind.


After finishing our tour we headed back to Greenwich and enjoyed a lovely group Afternoon Tea in the home of our wonderful leader Sean. Thanks again to him and his entire family for being absolutely fantastic. They served an amazing selection of Cucumber finger sandwiches (so light, yet so crunchy! I must have had at least 5) and scones with clotted cream and a plethora of jam. I'm actually salivating as I type this just thinking about it.

Dear America: learn to make proper scones and maybe I'll come home. Clotted Cream wouldn't hurt your case either. I beseech you!!


Monday, July 12, 2010

For Posterity

Short Post. Disclaimer, this is an actual conversation I had. Verbatim Dialogue, because it just happened.

I am sitting outside at Nio's Cafe across from McMillan Student Village (where I am staying) so that I can drink tea while writing a paper for class and enjoying free internet access. I'm about 2 feet away from the street so I have been smiling at people who make eye contact with me as they walk by just so that I can be polite. An African American woman walks by me, smiles and I smile back. She asks me,

"How Are You?"
"I'm fine," I say

She keeps walking and replies, "Do you go to church?"
Confused I say "Excuse me?"

She turns around and walks so that she is right across from me. "Do you go to Church?" she repeats.
"I'm not from around here actually, I'm from the States" I say.

She is relentless. "Do you go to church back home?"
"I'm Jewish actually" I reply.
"Oh, so you go to synagogue back home?" She inquires
"Yes" I say with a smile.

She begins to walk slowly, "Well Jesus is risen from the dead and he loves you. You will find in him your salvation."

She stops a little bit away from me and looks back directly at me. I smile and then continue working on my computer.

Apparently some things remain the same no matter how far away from home you get.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

"There's a Moral in There Somewhere" - Pleasure's Progress

So, I've been getting a lot of questions from random blog followers (my immediate family and closest friends who've I've threatened to hurt if they don't read this), which is so nice. But everyone wants to know if I'm enjoying myself. Apparently I haven't been verbose enough in describing my actual emotions for being over here. So I'll go ahead and answer for everyone.

Q: Jaclyn, Oh My God how is London do you love it?
A: It's amazing. I love it so much I'm never coming home.

I can't decide if I'm kidding yet. I suppose only time will tell.

Now then, back to the more exciting escapades around the city.

On Thursday our class took an excursion to see Sir John Soane's Museum, the Hunterian Museum, and Middle Temple Hall. Sir John Soane's was really really cool. The whole museum is a personal collection he had in his own home, filled with books, architectural columns, statues, and busts, paintings by Hogarth and even a sarcophagus among TONS of other things. It is absolutely an incredible house to behold. The trickiness of it is the house is two wide in front but three wide in back, so you think you've finished waling through it, but there is always another twist or turn.
Sir John Soane's Museum from the Front


The Hunterian museum is based out of the Royal Surgeons Academy and is full of preserved severed limbs of animals and humans. It the kind of thing that Dexter fans would die over. Admittedly is was a little bit gross for my taste, but it was still interesting. And the coolest thing by far was the Middle Temple Hall where "Twelfth Night" was staged for the first time in 1601. My inner (actually very outward) Shakespeare Nerd went a little ballistic. I touched the building. Just saying.

On Friday I went with some friends to South Bank for breakfast. We found this adorable little cafe next to the river where we got English tea and crepes. Crepes are so yummy. And just for the record, English Tea here is amazing. To put this in perspective for my American readers, I haven't had any coffee since I've gotten here, and the Tea is better anyway. I never thought I'd go a whole week without coffee, but I'm for sure gonna go the full six as long as I can keep drinking Tea all day long.

From breakfast we went to the Tower London, which was also amazing. We took lots of great pictures, saw the spot where Anne Boleyn was beheaded and the Crown Jewels. I think I'm going to ask my parents for the giant jeweled Orb that every English Monarch holds on their coronation day as a birthday present. It seems like the quintessential London souvenir. If not that then I'll settle for Queen Victoria's small diamond Tiara or crown of Queen Elizabeth I. They seemed pretty useful as well.


Following the visit to the jewels we went into the white tower and saw an exhibit full of armor used by various British Monarchs, including a set by Henry VIII which was really cool. However, if I had to choose a favorite set of armor though, it would be that of King Edward VI. Good for all the armor needs of a nine year old.


On Saturday I went to the British Museum with my friend Allison, which is gigantic and unbelievable. We saw the Rosetta Stone, A Statue of Ramses II, Alaskan Totem poles, Asian drawings and silk paintings, Egyptian sarcophagi, an Easter Island statue and so much more. The building is filled with so many objects that are just unreal to look at in person. Every single object has its own unique history and everything is SO OLD!

An Ancient Egyptian Scarab. Like from Aladdin, only much bigger. Probably would make for one hell of a cave. I'm sure that Genie would rule.

From there we had a tradition English Afternoon Tea at this marvelous little shop called the Tea and Tattle. I highly recommend you go there immediately. It was so good. By far my favorite scones to date. I'm gonna gain at least 10 pounds on scones this trip. If I can help it. With clotted cream and raspberry jam. And tea and cakes and sandwiches too.


The Royal Opera House put on a free show in Covent Garden of "Pleasure's Progress" by William Hogarth, which was absolutely FABULOUS! It is "A Tale of Sex, Wigs, Wags and Bawds." Absolutely hilarious. Full of wonderful anecdotes of country women turned to prostitution and the always relevant message for youngsters: "When your job is to shag, then a shag is a drag."

This morning I went to Greenwich Market, which is full of booths and street vendors and was delightful fun. As much as I have loved the city of London, I have to say that being in Greenwich has been my favorite part thus far. the city is so quaint and everyone has been so nice to me. And it is very manageable and obviously it is gorgeous. There is no other city in the world where you can just wake up, grab authentic tea and a scone and read Oscar Wilde next to the River Thames. A more picturesque moment probably doesn't even exist in the imaginations of the world. I suppose if I could do that every morning for the rest of my life, I would.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Architecture and Shakespearean Boats

First, my sincere apologies for putting 2 days into one post. I just recently found out that I am an overnight blog sensation in the eyes of my immediate family, and I can't afford to deal with the repercussions of any more late postings or my sister might kill me.

Yesterday and today I got my first tour of central London. Our group went on a duck tour which was hilariously awesome. Our first boat had mechanical troubles so we had to wait for a second, but that was nothing compared to what I am used to. As a tid-bit fact, all of the boats on the duck tour are converted military vehicles used during WWII on D-Day to go seamlessly from land to sea, and they are all renamed after Shakespearean heroines. The first boat we were supposed to get on was the "Mistress Quickly" (10 bonus points if you can guess the play), but some young couple rented out the entire boat for a private tour just before we got there. Then the "Cleopatra" had mechanical difficulties (Where is Marc Antony when you need him?) and then we finally ended up on the "Titania" which is beschert anyway because she is one of my favorite characters. And guess what we saw while cruising on the River Thames?

Why yes, that is Big Ben and the House of Parliament. It is so unreal in person. The intricacies of the architecture and the detail on the clock are so outstanding, pictures can't do them justice, so you'll just have to take my word for it.

While walking around later I thought it might be a good idea to take an arsty photograph as well. Different Angle.


Seeing things like Big Ben while walking around in London is like living in a fairy tale, or more accurately, like walking through a dream sequence of every work of British literature set in London I've ever read. This place is so fascinating because on one hand, everyone knows what Big Ben looks like and everyone has their own particular image of what London is, but on the other it is so different to be here in person, it is incomparable to reading Peter Pan and thinking you know what London is. We've been talking in class this week about our mythical London versus the one we've encountered in real life, and Big Ben really represents that mythical London for me, so it was really cool to see it in real life. Admittedly, my imaginary London also perpetually foggy and there are Dickensian wayfaring orphans on every street, so imagination isn't everything.

We stopped by a book market while exploring a bit and found a real treasure. British edition of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. And yes, I am aware there is a very creepy man in the right of this picture.


Other exciting places we visited today include the exterior of the Charles Dickens Coffee Shop, and the Blue circle plaque indicates that he lived in the apartment above the shop while he was writing in London. Which is kind of sweet. We saw where Rudyard Kipling lived for a bit in London as well, which ruled.


The most amazing thing to me about London so far is the architecture. Every building has its own very special design and each one must have been so painstakingly designed and built. The exterior surfaces are just breathtaking to behold. All you have to do is look up wherever you are and there is some amazing building or terrace or bridge at a different eye level. I could never get enough of just walking around the streets and staring at buildings.

Just so I don't get yelled at anymore, I wouldn't expect a post every day from now on. I am quite a busy student and I absolutely insist on quality over quantity in my blog posts. But don't worry, because I'll still be posting at least 3 per week for my assignments, so I promise my (very few) loyal readers that you will get all the juicy details of my experience and I won't leave anything out unless it is absolutely too obscene to print on the internet. Or I just don't want anyone to read it.

Monday, July 5, 2010

First Impressions

Day 1:

Greenwich is absolutely beautiful. The whole of campus looks like a cross between classical greek architecture and a traditional English castle. I'm absolutely in love with the dome on this particular building, King William's Court (which conveniently there's a picture of on the right) which has a beautiful clock at the top of it, which is so perfect, because as "Mary Poppins" tells us, "They say the whole world takes its time from Greenwich, but Greenwich they say takes its time from Admiral Boone." The symbolism is perfect I can't even stand it.

I had breakfast at this wonderful little cafe called Rhodes. Decided to do London up right with a scone and an English Breakfast tea. I probably can't adequately describe how much I enjoyed this scone/tea combo. In part because it was super delicious, but also in part because I've wanted to eat tea and scones in England since I was about 6 years old. And finally doing it made it feel like a dream true. A delicious and filling dream come true.

After registering for classes we toured campus a bit, and saw the Painted Hall. My words could never do it justice so I won't even try.




The artist depicted in his own work (above)

King George III (Happy July 4th America!)

Even the frame is painted on the wall.


After the tour we discussed two poems as an introduction to London. The first was Composed Upon Westminster Bridge by William Wordsworth, and the second was The London Eye by Patience Agbabi. In a way, both poems were about perspective. Wordsworth emphasized the perspective of the solitary person observing the city as the sun is rising and London is still asleep. He notices the beauty in the calm of the atmosphere around him, particularly the lack of people and industry that isn't present in his morning scene. Agbabi is writing about a more modern setting. Her piece focuses on London in one of its most touristy spots when the most possible people would be present. I think Agbabi appreciates the "hustle and bustle" more than Worsdworth does, but I have to tend to agree with WW. I like the calm.


Hell is Freezing

Last year I went and saw author David Sedaris do a reading at the brand new Union at The Ohio State University, and one thing in particular he said recently stuck me as very false. He was recounting to us an experience he had in an airport waiting to board to plane, as his flight had been delayed. Sedaris claimed that being stuck in that airport felt like being in Purgatory. As a human, he had no control over when he was getting out of there, and some people got to go and some people got to stay. Some other person who no one can see or know makes all of the decisions about who goes and who stays and at one time. He assumed that very good people never got their flights delayed, and then assumed that all of the sinner probably ended up with huge delays and then maybe their plane crashed. However, as much as it pains me to say it, Sedaris is wrong on this particular point. Waiting in an airport isn’t like being in Purgatory, it is like being in Hell. And in the Newark airport, Hell is freezing cold.

Columbus International was Purgatory. It literally took less than a half hour from parking the car, checking in for my flight, printing my ticket, checking a bag, and going through security to get to the terminal. And then I waited for 15 minutes to board and the plane took off. I was lucky enough to have a travel companion, Bryan, and we were going to fly together to London from Newark. We arrived 30 minutes ahead of schedule in Newark, at 3:00pm on July 3rd, and went to terminal C. The first thing we did was check to make sure our 6:40 pm flight to Heathrow was still on time, before sitting down for our layover.

Flight CO 28 Q London/Heathrow 6:40pm – Now 11pm

Delayed for six hours. That meant sitting in the airport for 8 hours before take-off. The admittedly not at fault but completely unhelpful lady at the Continental service desk let us know that the plane was going through maintenance, and that they would try to locate another plane but until then, all other flights were completely booked to London and that if we had checked a bag we could not be on a stand-by list. Why no one thought to put this plane through a maintenance check on any other day of the 6 months prior that flight CO 28 Q had been scheduled to fly to Heathrow is beyond me, but I suppose Continental is the procrastinator type of airline.

With that news in hand, I went ahead and sat down in the terminal in an attempt to not have a panic attack about getting to London 8 hours later than I had intended. Luckily I wasn’t expected to be anywhere until 5pm so I would still have enough time to adequately check into my residence hall and collect myself, I would probably just look disheveled and angry.

I spent the next hour and a half or reading and watching a live pigeon walk around the terminal. I’m not sure how it got in there, but I named him Pigeon and assumed that he was probably on a delayed flight also. What is absolutely amazing was how many airport employees walked by Pigeon and either didn’t see him or refused to notice him in an effort to do nothing about his presence. Which worked, because Pigeon was in terminal C for as long as I was.

Sometime after that I went to get into the line for 6$ of free food vouchers, because by now I was starving and Continental definitely owed me a meal. While standing in line over the course of an hour, the stewardess working the counter had the wonderfully pleasant task of informing the mass of us that the flight had now been delayed until 2am, again with no further explanation. At this point there was really nothing left to do but grumble angrily and curse Continental for being the biggest failure of an airline I had ever been on. And Yes, I am still angry.

So to pass the next 6ish hours of time, Bryan and I had the good sense to invent a card game. It’s called “Modern Warfare: The Seven Circles of Hell When Waiting in an Airport.” The wonderful thing about this game is that anyone can play it, all you need is a deck of cards, an airport terminal and the will to not kill yourself during a 10 hour layover.

“MW:TSCHWWA” has Seven rounds. They play as follows

Round 1: Played like the card game War.

Round 2: Each player gets to hold 5 cards in their hand and can choose which one to play at a certain time, and then they draw off the top of their stack to keep five in their hands. If you encounter a war (both players play the same card), you simply keep playing and the next hand wins both tricks.

Round 3: Played like round 2, except if there is a War, each player lays down all of the cards in their hand and each draws the top card of their stack, highest card wins all the cards.

Round 3.5: Between rounds 3 and 4, the “Royal Flush Rule” comes into play. If at any time, either player holds in their hand 5 cards in a row of the same suit, they automatically win the game. This rule remains in play until the end of round 6.

Round 4: Played with all the rules of the past rounds, with the addition of the rule that any player can now play two number cards at the same time and use their added value to win tricks. For example, player one plays two 4’s and player two plays a 7. Player one wins the trick because 4+4=8 and 8>7. If the value is the same, then the player with more cards played wins the trick, ergo, two 5’s beat a 10.

Round 5: All other rules still apply, except that now instead of laying down your card at the same time, the players alternate laying down cards, seeing what the other player played first, and then choosing what card to lay in return. Begins with the player who is winning, or has the most cards currently.

Round 6: All rules still apply except for that now if a player lays down two of the same card, those cards become eliminated from the game, and the other player automatically wins that hand, and is rewarded by drawing the top card from the other persons stack. The objective now is to get rid of lower suited cards. Cards must be played in pairs.

Round 7: The final round is played exactly like round 2. If at the end of round 7 you have not been told you can board the plane, both players lose.

While living through what would eventually be the worst 12 hours of my life, I came upon a very keen observation. Newark airport is absolutely freezing. It was so cold that my entire body was shivering and I couldn’t feel the difference between the temperature induced convulsions and my cell phone vibrating. My poor Mother (shout out: Hi Mom, made it alive and I love you) had been texting me all day to keep me entertained and to make sure I wasn’t dead and/or never leaving Hell. I was asleep at around 3:00am when she inquired last to ask if I was ever leaving. Thank God she asked too, because at around 3:30am, almost immediately after I texted her back that I had no idea and that I assumed I was going to die before I ever made it to Heathrow, they announced we would finally be boarding the plane and had been cleared to fly.

I’ve never been so happy.

The plane took off at 4:45am, which means (Drumroll please) I clearly hold the all time record for most hours spent in or around Newark airport by a non-employee: Approximately 14.5 hours. I slept for most of the plane flight, with 3 blankets and a jacket I might add. Apparently during those 14.5 hours of maintenance checks no thought to examine cabin temperature. I’m pretty sure it was just a hair warmer than the negative 68 degrees Fahrenheit that was the outdoor temperature while we were in the air.

We landed in Heathrow at 4:15pm Greenwich time and went to Border control, where after a 30 minute wait I was logically detained by border security for absolutely no reason. I assume it is because I am a dodgy looking foreigner. The kind border control worker who helped me said,

“I’m going to detain you, I have to make some checks on some things. So please wait over here and I’m keeping your passport.” I have to admit, in her English accent it sounded charming. At that point they locked me in a small, open air box so that I could watch the non-suspicious looking people cross the border into Heaven. 20 minutes later she returned and said I could go through. Her explanation was, “It didn’t have anything to do with you individually per se, but I checked and you can go now.” Thank you efficient government. And Goodbye.

I finally made it to University of Greenwich a mere 10.5 hours later than I thought it would, having missed check in and induction ceremony. Luckily I ran into some girls I new from my trip who were on their way to get a bite to eat, and having realized that I hadn’t had anything to eat other than potato chips and a roll for the past 23 hours, I happily agreed to go out with them.

One delicious shepherd’s pie and a cider later I finally felt much better. I no longer felt like I was going to have a panic attack or that I would never eat again. I made it to where I needed to be and I’m sure the next six weeks will be one of the most eye opening experience and enjoyable experiences I will ever have. Made it to Heaven, and Thank God!

Thursday, July 1, 2010

In Media Res

I wish I could say I had an intense and insightful philosophical thought for the beginning of this blog, but of course I don't. Really I just enjoy adjectives. I once had an English Professor who informed me and my class of a quote by Mark Twain: "If you see an adjective, kill it." I really liked him, but this came as a hard blow for me. Ever since, I wrack my brain writing academic essays with as few descriptions as possible, but I compensate with overly described creative writing. It's a trade off I'm willing to make for now.

This blog isn't actually being told In Media Res, partly because I've never been a fan of the epic, but mostly because I'm writing about things as they happen to me. But this part of my life is In Media Res for now, and it doesn't seem fair to act like this is the beginning of any story, even of one for 6 weeks of the summer. It's not my first blog, or my first journal, or anything that would warrant this entry to be particularly titled as such, so I won't title it that way.

Today is Thursday, and I leave for London on Saturday. I have managed to assemble everything I'm intending to pack in my room but have yet to worry about actually packing that. In all reality that process will probably occur sometime tomorrow, probably while I should be sleeping. With any luck it will get done with enough time to make it to the airport without speeding over I270.

For now I'm just going to continue not packing and trying not to be too nervous for the upcoming adventure.