London Nightlife

This past week Pam and I actually set aside our homework for some night outings, namely Wicked on Wednesday and a stand-up comedy club on Friday. Wicked was just as wonderful as the last time I saw it in Chicago, even though this Fiyero wasn't as good. I love how common going to the theater is here; I feel like back home it might be one of those once every 5-yr. "special treats," but w/ how affordable and prevalent it is here, it's no wonder going to the theatre is the same as going out to eat.

Friday night Pam took me with her GSE program to the FmyFyg Bar for a comedy night...my abs are still a little sore. I love British humor. None of us admitted to being Americans, so we were able to sit back and laugh at the American-targetted jokes w/o being put on the spot. However, the comics' favorite source of humor was making fun of themselves. After actually experiencing how they do seem to be less streamlined and more patient w/ doing things the most difficult way possible just b/c "that's how it's always been done," we all thoroughly enjoyed the bit about how they are bound to screw up the Olympics. Also, one of the comedians highlighted how heartless he finds Brits b/c whenever we hear of a train delay due to someone falling on the tube tracks, anger seems to prevail over sympathy: "What? How dare someone throw themselves on the tracks when I have work to get to? He better have died!"

It's nice to have so many after-dark options, especially since dark has started coming before 4 pm.

Thanksgiving

My first Thanksgiving away from home was a wonderful as it could be...instead of family, I was able to share it with new friends and improv foods. Pam and I went to the American service at St. Paul's this morning - who knew there were so many of us over here? It was packed, and comforting in a way, to be surrounding by so many other people who were thinking of loved ones back home.

After class, we made some chicken, pasta, instant tators, gravy, another girl made corn, another brought cheesecake, and we found some strange room w/ beanbag chairs and a projector, where we feasted and watched "Friends." Very American. To any NF readers: so glad I loaded up on turkey and pumpkin everything this summer :)

At any rate, this seems like the opportune time to tell you all how thankful I am for all of you. I'm so blessed to have this opportunity, and even more so to know that in a few weeks, I have such wonderful family and friends to welcome me home. Thanks for your prayers and support, and I hope you all had a wonderful day w/ family. Love you!

St. Paul's, Harrods, & Stuff White People Like

This was supposed to be my "homework weekend," since many things are going to be due soon and I will have little time to do them. Yet Sunday night has rolled around, and I'm sure every college student can identify w/ the "shoulda, woulda, coulda, but didn't and now I have a fun Sunday night ahead of me" position I find myself in. I guess my art and developmental psych papers are "done enough," and a few other things got checked off the list, but making excuses is much easier when "I'm in London - when else can I do this?" skips into your head whenever anything exciting comes up.

So, today I went to Harrods - a ridiculously overpriced department store - with Anja and her parents. We wandered around the food stalls for a long while, admiring the beautiful tarts, pastries, chocolates, posed fish, imported cheeses, etc., before moving on to gawk at the Vera Wang dresses and Juicy Couture hand bags to pass some time (as well as escape the tourists packing being packed in like cattle).

After that we went to St. Paul's Cathedral for an afternoon mass. The little choir boys with their ruffled neck fixtures filled that place like I couldn't believe. After the service, we stayed for an organ concert. It was breathtaking being inside - the architecture, murals, detailing, huge space being filled w/ blasts from the organ pipes...one of those things you can't really describe, just have to experience.

Her parents treated us to some delicious burgers and milkshakes, and then I made my way back to finish up some homework. Alas, I got sidetracked by my newest procrastination fetish: stuffwhitepeoplelike.com. Hilarious, especially considering the other two topics in the title can be included in this list.

The Art of Research...or visa versa

I realize that my blogs make it seem like all I do is go gallivanting around the UK, but be assured fellow students - I, too, have homework. Luckily not as much as I do at home, since figuring out a new system (which includes processes like submitting assignments to a register rather than in class, running around to 4 different campus locations and libraries, no office hours, very little guidance and even less feedback, etc.) is work enough.

Rather than posting a picture of this less-than-glamorous part of my life abroad, I will briefly describe today's series of events. Pam and I took the Tube to North Campus to check out some books for an art paper we have coming up. After that, we went to class across the street, which entailed a "workshop" on what "good essay writing" means, a five minute meeting w/ the professor to go over our comparison/contrast papers, and lots of waiting (accompanied by complaining about how confused we all were).

After class we hopped back on the Tube (which involved one transfer stop and one "oops, we got off at the wrong place") to City Campus and found our way to the art building, which the professor instructed us had better resources than the other 4 libraries. Then came the highlight of my day: Pam and I were both sitting between rows of books on the third floor reading about Impressionism, Romanticism, and Rococo for our papers when we hit gold. "Here there's a bunch of stuff about how Renoir was highly influenced by Fragonard!" said Pam, reading from her ten-pound book. "And I just found out that Monet had studied Turner's oil painting technique and his use of color!" said I from behind my ten-pound book. Again, the highlight of my day.

Apart from doing laundry, which is just about done. In another half an hour, my clean laundry will be strung from the clotheslines Pam and I installed to save money on not having to use the dryers. Again, I love my roommate.

Marcus Roberts = real life jazz hands

London is currently hosting a huge jazz festival, with dozens of big-name performances each night. Tonight, I met up with my flight buddy (a nice gent from Macalester) to see Marcus Roberts at Wigmore Hall. Roberts - a blind pianist from Jacksonville - put on an amazing show, accompanied by Jason Marsalis and Roland Guerin.

I realize this sounds like a newspaper review, but I just had to put it up to showcase the joys of being in a city. Granted, it was no USC jazz band rocking out to '25 or 6 to 4', but it was one of the best shows I've been to in awhile...I seriously don't know how his fingers stayed on.

But that's all for tonight, folks. I'm off to prepare an art history outline!

Shakespeare Country

This past weekend I escaped the storm scheduled to hit London and went on an overnight trip to Statford-upon-Avon and Warwick. Statford is where Shakespeare was born (saw the house), lived for part of his life, and died (saw the grave). We walked around the town, touring a few of the houses (distantly) related to him; they were all of Elizabethan architecture, made of huge timbers and wattle and daub. Again, another character-filled town, this one quite literally: costumed guides everywhere and actors of the Royal Shakespeare Company near-by, but under low-profile. The whole weekend I felt as though I had gone back in a time capsule, occassionally replacing me and you with thee and thou.

Saturday night we (the other 14 international students on the trip and I) ate at the local pub before settling into our seats for Shakespeare's "Twlefth Night." It was an excellent show, much easier to understand than the last one, relatively speaking of course. Afterwards, since the pub where the actors usually go was packed to bursting, a few of us wandered down to the river to keep the swans company. This led to a photo shoot (led from a girl by China and one from Taiwan...) and ended in a foam fight. Why there was a pile of foam on the sidewalk is a mystery to me, but it was a great bonding experience: I can now say I've flung foam at Austrians, Australians, a Syrian, and some Asians.

Sunday morning I walked through the early-dawn light to the 8:00 church service at Holy Trinity, where Shakespeare is buried. Again, much easier to understand than the last mass I was at, largely because it was in English this time. The girl from Taiwan also showed up, and so afterward, we strolled along the river Avon as rowers glided past and the morning joggers came to life. When we got back to our adorable bed and breakfast, my first full Enligh breakfast was waiting for me - fried eggs, toast, bacon, sausage, baked beans, and tomatoes, and tea, of course.

After a quick stop at Anne Hathaway's cottage, our minibus took us to the town of Warwick, which boasts a beautiful old castle. This was officially my first castle visit! We explored for about three hours, learning about everything from falconry to built-in lines of defense, parties thrown by rolaty to preparing for battle. The view from the top of the lookout tower was gorgeous: to the east, green grass and rolling hills dotted with grazing sheep as far as you could see, the small town of Warwick nestled to the west. One of the best weekends here so far...

Arrivederci Italia

Sunday was a day of rest; Frances, her friend, and I decided to go to an English mass at one of the churches nearby. 9:00 found the three of us sitting in a dimmly-lit side chapel of the church of St. Francis with no one else around except for a cute old man reading his Bible in the back. At 9:15 it became obvious that we were the only people that were going to show up. The old man came over to us and asked if we were here for the English service. In response to our excited head bobs, he glanced at his watch, sighed and said "Alright, quickly then," and went to the front to light some candles. Kira decided we should tell him that we weren't actually Catholic and wouldn't be taking communion. In response, he stopped lighting candles and told us the Italian mass would be at 10:00.

We stuck around and it was worth the wait. Even though I speak very little Italian and was lost for most of the service, it was beautiful to watch and listen to the small group's well-rehearsed Sunday ritual. The songs and readings and recitations flowed seamlessly in rapid Italian, with us rising and falling to our knees with the rest of them. It's true that there is no better way to experience a culture than by participating in their religious rituals.

After church Frances and I went to one of her favorite cafes to do homework. Over the best (and only) banana cappuchino I've ever had, she told me interesting tidbits as she studied for her Italian culture test: 95-98% of the country is Catholic, yet abortion is legal and they have one of the lowest teen pregnancy rates. We had dinner at her place and talked w/ one of her Italian roommates who warmed up some roasted chestnuts for us to taste. It was nice to experience the everday side of Italy...it was a homey day.

Monday Frances and I said our good-byes and I got on the bus back to Florence. I spent the day wandering around snapping pictures of statues, the Renaissance in the making, the leather markets, etc. I went inside the duomo and teared up. See video.

On the plane ride back we flew over Paris at night - it was beautiful, all lit up. I sat next to Luca, an interesting guy w/ dual citizenship (Italian and American) who guessed that I was from MN. We chatted about how much we loved Boulder and San Fran, and how both of us grew up on farms...except his grew grapes. To Annie's question, I would say that yes, people kind of are all the same no matter where you go.

As I got on the tube back in London, "Mind the gap" floated like familiar music to my ears. It was nice to discover how much like home London has become.

Italy: Day 2

Photos:  Bambini chasing birds on the campo; Gumdrops?; After lunch in the Fortezza. 

Saturday morning we got up early and went wandering.  Frances is officially the best Sienese tour guide:  not only did she promise to fill me with a month's worth of gelato in four days (little did I know that the gelato stores close for the winter and this is the last weekend many of them will be open), she's taking an art history class so could fill me in on the important stuff, plus she's one of those people who just loves life, especially her life in Sienna.  

We walked and talked and gawked for hours through the tiny town; she told me all about the separate contradas (which are like little boroughs), casa torres (towers), the fortress the Medecci family built, etc.  I love Sienna - it has a small town feel, a much slower pace than London, laundry hanging from windows, and best of all, Italians.  London, I've discovered, is really only half British; the rest is tourist/visitors like myself, so I never really feel like I'm completely submerged in another culture.  In Italy, that was not the case, even though it has it's share of tourists, too.

Frances is not only a good tour guide, but a wonderful shopper.  We went into hat stores (and tried on every type of hat imagineable), olive wood stores, candy stores (loaded up on gum drops and chocolates), leather stores (tried in gloves), an antique store (where the ancient owner gave us antique lessons in Italian), scarf stores, vintage stores (where, after trying on tons of belts, Frances talked me into buying the coolest one ever), and, of course, gelato stores.  The best things about all these stores is they each had their own distinct smell, each one magnificent in it's own way.

In the afternoon, the sun came out and we basked out in the campo.  Little Italian bambini chased pigeons and lovebirds strolled about.  It was lovely, no other word.

That night, Frances took me to this family run restaraunt off the campo.  She ordered for us:  the house wine, which came w/ bread; the best tortellini of my life; a salad of fresh vegetables; and finally, chicken, which I enjoyed as I watched Frances try to debone her fish :)  I came the closest to tipsy I've ever been in my life.  It's true that the Italians definitely know how to eat.  

It was a perfect day. 

Buon giorno Italia!

Photos: My first Italian cappuchino - frothy goodness!; Basking in front of the Santa Maria Novella; Watching the sunset on the Porta Vecchio

It's a rainy Sunday night, and after a busy 3 days, Frances and I are chilling out in her room; as she's busy being an artist finishing up a painting project, I decided to document some of my Italian dream...I'll do it in a series of blogs so I don't leave too much out. **Frances, for those of you who don't know, is an Alabama girl I worked w/ this summer on the ranch. She's a kindred spirit.**

Friday, I got up at 4.00 am to catch a bus to another bus to Stanstead Airport to Pisa. In Pisa I had one of my smoothest travel transitions: within 10 minutes of stepping off the plain, I was in a train to Florence. My eyes wouldn't let my body fall asleep; I was in Italy!!! This was verified by the tiny towns nestled into the hilly countryside zooming by and signs I couldn't read everywhere.

At the train station, I checked in my (Pam's) luggage and hit the streets with one simple goal: gelato! My navigational skills were put to the test like never before: not only were the streets smaller and more twisted than those in London, I knew little to none of the language and I didn't have a map (yet). However, 5 minutes later, I had a cup of gelato large enough to feed Iowa and was sitting on the steps of the San Lorenzo chapel.

I was feeling okay at this point, until I pulled out my phone to try to call Frances and realized that it wouldn't work outside of London. This is where you learn something about what kind of traveler you are: 5 hours of sleep, no concept of where you are in a totally new city, not knowing the language and unable to contact the one person you know within thousands of miles. I stifled the panic and hit the streets in search of a solution. I weaved through the leather markets (which smelled distinctly Italian), spotted a phone store which directed me to another store where, for one euro, I was able to call Frances and agree on a meeting place.

That dilemma being solved, I bought a map from a wrinkled old man who gave me a brief Italian lesson who also directed me to my final destination. My goodness, at this point it will take too many words to try to describe what it's like walking through the streets of your first Italian town: gelatarios every other shop, itty bitty streets, people on motorcycles...all the stereotypical stuff you would imagine. And then I turned a cornere and before me was, duh duh dun: THE DUOMO! In all it's splendor, just like I'd seen countless pictures in my architecture classes. It relieved me of all my traveler stress and fatigue. My jaw just droppend and my insides filled up with contentment.

Two hours later Frances found me dozing w/ my journal open on my lap on the backside of the Fountain of Neptune. Seeing her was goodness beyond words :) She took me around Florence, and just being with a familiar person, not to mention my dream city, was even better than gelato.

After a few hours in Florence, we took a train to Sienna where she lives, picked up a pizza on the way, and devoured it at her apartment. We talked for a few hours about things only kindred spirits can discuss, then passed out. It was a blissful first day.

Jack the Ripper, Christmas Lights, etc.

Ahh, sorry again for the leave of absence. I feel like so much has happened in the last few days...let's see: On Halloween, we went downtown for a walking tour of all the places Jack the Ripper sliced open 5 helpless prostitutes. We (and a thousand other tourists) walked around the lamp lit streets of Whitechaple, one of the poorer areas of the city (coinicidently where the city campus for my school is), hanging on every fabled word of the cockney-accented tour guide. It was a spooky way to spend the evening.

Tuesday brought the next round of excitement. I was taking a nap while waiting for my laundry to get done, and the instant I awoke, Pam asked me if I wanted to see Jim Carrey turn on the Christmas lights. I was utterly confused, but an hour later I found myself downtown standing in the middle of Oxford Circus in the midst of a crowd to rival Times Square on New Year's Eve. Cameras, big screens, police, and people were everywhere, anxioulsy awaiting the sparklefication of the downtown.

The build-up to the level pulling included performances by the Sister Act nuns, Peter Andre, The Saturdays, Tayo Cruz (?), and Mayor Borris Johnson, plus that song from 'Love Actually' ("All I Want for Christmas") playing at every intermission. The British pop rock stars had taken the sleep haze off, and I was ready to get in the Christmas spirit...at this point Jim Carrey and the director of "A Christmas Carol" took the stage to pull the magic lever. Immediately, the streets were aglow w/ millions of lights in all colors and configurations - trees and presents, reds, whites, and greens.

I promise I will post one of Pam's videos of the ordeal later. Just know for now that it was wonderful.

Right now I am about to head to bed, because at 4 o'clock tomorrow morning I am making my way to ITALY!! I moment I've been dreaming of for, well, a very long time. Better yet, I get to see lovely Frances and have her show me the sights, streets, and where to get the best gelato in Florence and Sienna. Of course, I will let you know how it goes. For now, I'm going to brush up on my Italian and hit the hay.