So, I never planned on keeping this blog during my stint in LA. But I have had a post running through my head all day (my irritation with this city is bubbling over), and since lists are like the only method I have to organize my thoughts, here we go.
Top 5 Things That Really Piss Me Off About LA
5. Being ogled: I understand that I live in a very poor part of town. I don't mind people coming up to me to ask for money, or sleeping on the sidewalk. If I have some change handy, I'll usually even help you out. But there is just no decent excuse for making kissing noises at a complete stranger as she walks past you on the street. And really, what on earth are you trying to accomplish? Are you really expecting me to turn around and say, Hey, Let's make out! No, you're not. And if I did you would probably be really uncomfortable. Please stop power tripping by taking away my right to walk down the road in peace.
4. Population density: This is partially a symptom of my neighborhood, since despite coming to LA, land of urban sprawl, I managed to move into the region with the highest population density of the whole city. There are just so damn many people. Really though, where I am living is definitely the lesser of two evils. At least I am close to public transportation. If I were outside of the city center a couple more miles, I would be way more pissed off by the sprawl. All of this is really irrelevant, since no matter where you go, it is always crawling with people. And outside downtown these people are often either over-privileged bleach blonde trust-fund babies trying to pretend they're starving artists, or desperate housewives with too much money to spend at Crate&Barrell. Barf.
3. My job: It's been disappointing in many ways. I write promos. I update contact information. I transcribe. I understand that I can't expect to be reporting every day and on the air for every cast. That's fine. What I really don't like about my job has to do with the fact that I sit by myself in a cubicle in the corner with no one around. Maybe this sounds trivial, but it means that I don't feel like I am a part of the work community. It's a huge drag. The people at Marketplace are all really interesting and amusing. But I'm not in a position where I can engage with them. I'm just passing through, for three months, so it's obviously not worth the effort to really befriend me. This brings me too...
2. Being alone: There is nothing worse than not having any friends in this city. I do a lot of things on my own. I'm used to it. I went up to gold country by myself, went hiking...I go to the beach on my own, I go to movies on my own, I eat on my own. It's totally fine. But it's also totally lonely, and would be a hundred times better if I had even a single person with whom to do these things occasionally.
1. Public transportation: I could write a Master's thesis on all the things that are wrong with the public transportation in this city. In a place this size, it is preposterous that the rail system is non-comprehensive. It's even more preposterous that the vast majority of people who live here don't mind, and don't bother to use the buses and rails that are there. I find navigating the inconvenient buses infinitely preferable to wading through the nightmarish freeways. Anyway. What I really want to rant about is the lack of etiquette public transportation users display when riding the buses/rails. Here's something that might top my list of lifetime pet peeves: people who get on the bus and sit down in the aisle seat when the window seat is open. What on earth do you think that other seat is for? Your personal space? Your peace of mind? NO. IT'S SO SOMEONE CAN SIT DOWN. Then, as people file onto the bus, they remain sitting in the inside seat, forcing the rest of us to stand or awkwardly to gesture toward the window seat. Even then, do they scoot over and sit in the window seat instead of the aisle? NO. They look up at you and maybe point their knees thirty degrees inward, forcing you to climb over them in order to get to the damn seat. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? JUST SIT IN THE WINDOW SEAT IN THE FIRST PLACE. I DON'T MIND GETTING UP WHEN YOU NEED TO GET OFF THE BUS. Also, why don't people understand the concept of the bus's back door? You get on the bus at the front. You get off at the back. IT'S NOT HARD.
So, that was refreshing. It was a long time coming. But now, to be fair, I am going to talk about the bad things' good counterparts.
Top 5 Things That I Actually Really Like About LA
5. Beaches: I mean, duh. Keystone Lake does not remotely compare to the Pacific Ocean. Especially with the toxic algae and such.
4. Food: a) Fresh produce everywhere. Delicious. I especially love the guy who runs the fruit truck on my street. He always makes me take free peaches and papayas and stuff, and once when I didn't have proper change, he took me on my word that I'd come back next time with the $1.50 I owed him. He's great. b) Delivery options. I can get all kinds of Indian and Thai food delivered at pretty much any time. And, I can get pretty much all kinds of food with tofu, which will be much harder to find in Tulsa. Vegetarianism has been much easier than I expected this summer.
3. My job: I wasn't being kind when I said the people at Marketplace are really cool. And everyone is really willing to show me around let me work on odd projects. So while a lot of the time is dull, sometimes I have really good days where I get to do really cool things. Plus I'll be able to freelance for them from Tulsa when I get home.
2. Mornings: SoCal weather is so queer. Almost every single morning, there's a uniform haze of clouds from the ocean. It's cool and feels like rain even though it's not raining. It burns off by about ten, so that when I get out of work it's hot and bright and the only haze is from the pollution. But at least in the morning, LA doesn't feel like such a crazy place.
1. This place I volunteer at: What I do here is simply read and record textbooks for blind and dyslexic people who want to go to school. Obviously, being in radio, this is right up my alley, and it's a lot of fun, but the best part of it is the people who work there. They aren't stressed and tense like the people at work. They are all super kind and funny—I only spend a few hours a week there, but I feel like much more a part of that community than I do at my actual job. I would have gone crazy weeks ago if I hadn't found that place.
So. That's all I got. Dear old LA. What a place. I can't wait to be home.
C
Monday, August 8, 2011
Monday, December 20, 2010
Please
please please please please dear Lord in heaven, refrain from dumping even more snow on London so that my Thursday flight will not be cancelled and so that I will get home before Christmas. This is all I ask.
Although, if you could spare a second favor, an earlier flight would also be quite welcome.
It is taking every ounce of my concentration, as I sit in the lobby of this hotel in Notting Hill, not to break down crying as from the window I watch the snowflakes growing steadily larger. In order to combat the despair that will surely overwhelm me as soon as I am out of sight of the desk man, I am going to talk about all the things I have to be thankful for. They include:
Number One: My dad. He is a hero among men. I'm sure he had a lot of important things to do at work today, but as far as I can tell, he has been meticulously combing the Delta website looking for fleeting cancellations that would enable me to come home sooner. He succeeded in moving my flight up from Friday to Thursday, which, being the difference between getting in on the 23rd and getting in on Christmas Eve, is like, a big ol' Christmas miracle.
Number Two: My London roommate, Lea. She originally was in my situation, of having had her flight cancelled and not being able to get out until Thursday. She booked a hotel in Bayswater (near Notting Hill) and we were going to share the room. She managed to get on a standby flight this afternoon, but left her reservation so that I could use it. I am eternally grateful. The hotel is nice, and weirdly it's in the same neighborhood as the Eurolearn people had us staying in at the very beginning, so I kind of know my way around. At least, a few things are blessedly familiar.
Number Three: Britain's drinking age. I went to a pub down the road to eat dinner and get a drink after I checked into this hotel. When I ordered, I had sort of forgotten that I had eaten nothing the whole day at Heathrow. Sitting there drinking my Bulmer's pear cider, waiting for my food and reading my e-copy of Emma, I accidentally ended up a little drunk, which really helped, as Jane Austen would put it, "calm my nerves."
Number Four: Heathrow airport's left luggage room: Were it not for that, I would have either had to pay seventy quid for a taxi to my hotel, or I would have had to battle the Piccadilly and District lines with my giant suitcase, my tiny suitcase, my backpack and my computer bag. Thanks to Heathrow, I was able to store the two suitcases and just take my two little bags to the hotel. Which brings me to—
Number Five: H&M. I knew where it was, because I knew where the mall was from staying here in September. Since I stored all my luggage, I only had one change of clothing with me. I was able to buy some basics for pretty cheap, and I have a clean new sweater to wear on the plane.
The snowflakes look smaller now than they did when I started this post. That's Number Six.
Anyway. I am going to try to make the most of this. I am going to go back to the British Museum to see their travelling exhibit on the Egyptian Book of the Dead, and I am going to hit up the National Gallery. I might go see another show tomorrow. Who knows. This whole thing doesn't seem as much of a disaster as it did about four hours ago... that is, as long as my new flight actually leaves when it's supposed to. Touch wood. Perhaps tomorrow I will even be in a good enough mood to write the post I was planning on doing today: top ten things I would miss about England. We'll see.
Hope to be seeing you all sooner than I expect!
Love,
Catherine
Although, if you could spare a second favor, an earlier flight would also be quite welcome.
It is taking every ounce of my concentration, as I sit in the lobby of this hotel in Notting Hill, not to break down crying as from the window I watch the snowflakes growing steadily larger. In order to combat the despair that will surely overwhelm me as soon as I am out of sight of the desk man, I am going to talk about all the things I have to be thankful for. They include:
Number One: My dad. He is a hero among men. I'm sure he had a lot of important things to do at work today, but as far as I can tell, he has been meticulously combing the Delta website looking for fleeting cancellations that would enable me to come home sooner. He succeeded in moving my flight up from Friday to Thursday, which, being the difference between getting in on the 23rd and getting in on Christmas Eve, is like, a big ol' Christmas miracle.
Number Two: My London roommate, Lea. She originally was in my situation, of having had her flight cancelled and not being able to get out until Thursday. She booked a hotel in Bayswater (near Notting Hill) and we were going to share the room. She managed to get on a standby flight this afternoon, but left her reservation so that I could use it. I am eternally grateful. The hotel is nice, and weirdly it's in the same neighborhood as the Eurolearn people had us staying in at the very beginning, so I kind of know my way around. At least, a few things are blessedly familiar.
Number Three: Britain's drinking age. I went to a pub down the road to eat dinner and get a drink after I checked into this hotel. When I ordered, I had sort of forgotten that I had eaten nothing the whole day at Heathrow. Sitting there drinking my Bulmer's pear cider, waiting for my food and reading my e-copy of Emma, I accidentally ended up a little drunk, which really helped, as Jane Austen would put it, "calm my nerves."
Number Four: Heathrow airport's left luggage room: Were it not for that, I would have either had to pay seventy quid for a taxi to my hotel, or I would have had to battle the Piccadilly and District lines with my giant suitcase, my tiny suitcase, my backpack and my computer bag. Thanks to Heathrow, I was able to store the two suitcases and just take my two little bags to the hotel. Which brings me to—
Number Five: H&M. I knew where it was, because I knew where the mall was from staying here in September. Since I stored all my luggage, I only had one change of clothing with me. I was able to buy some basics for pretty cheap, and I have a clean new sweater to wear on the plane.
The snowflakes look smaller now than they did when I started this post. That's Number Six.
Anyway. I am going to try to make the most of this. I am going to go back to the British Museum to see their travelling exhibit on the Egyptian Book of the Dead, and I am going to hit up the National Gallery. I might go see another show tomorrow. Who knows. This whole thing doesn't seem as much of a disaster as it did about four hours ago... that is, as long as my new flight actually leaves when it's supposed to. Touch wood. Perhaps tomorrow I will even be in a good enough mood to write the post I was planning on doing today: top ten things I would miss about England. We'll see.
Hope to be seeing you all sooner than I expect!
Love,
Catherine
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Partying...
...is happening back home amongst my friends quite often these days, which is tough, because I wish I could join in, but I comfort myself with the knowledge that I'll be back home in a mere five days. Yippee! Aside from a debacle with my English paper, my assignments are coming along nicely. I'm leaving one paper for over the break, because it's about LOST and I can't get Netflix in this stupid country.
That's not fair. I don't really believe this country is stupid. In fact, quite the opposite; I love it here. I can't believe I have to go, without any idea when I might return. Hopefully for grad school, at least. This weekend we went round London taking silly Christmas pictures at places like Abbey Road and Harrods and the South Bank. Every time I go into London I find that I'm going to miss is even more. Kingston I could take or leave. Kingston Uni I could take or leave. Actually I'll be happy to leave Kingston Uni, where I am not impressed with the attitudes of most students. Whatever. London, though. I can't believe I have to go home to Tulsa.
Right now I'm waiting for word from my professor about my English paper, which is probably going to be a fruitless endeavor, so let's revisit my goals.
-5 new countries: Fortunately, this most important of my priorities I have accomplished! Sweden, the Netherlands, the Czech Republic, Austria, and Ireland make exactly five, not to mention France, which I've already visited. This brings the total number of countries I've visited up to a round ten. Awesome.
-Out of the way places: Charleston Farmhouse, yes. Chawton (Jane Austen's house), yes. Charles Dickens' house in London, yes. This one could have been better, but in the last weeks here I decided with the combination of my dwindling funds, my mounting workload and the blistering cold, some of those places, like Durham and Wales, just weren't going to be possible. Which sucks, and is just another reason I wish I could stay longer. But, you know. Grad school.
-London buses: Epic fail. Whatever. Really, everything I ever do in London is either within walking distance of wherever I am, or within walking distance of the Tube. I didn't bother visiting on Tube strike days. Kingston buses, on the other hand, which are a part of the London bus system, I am an expert in. Which is unfortunate because they are all terrible.
-None of my parents' money: Mostly a success. The only substantial thing I used their money for was a travelcard, but really, that's all. Everything else has come out of my savings and money from TU.
-More friends: While I haven't made any friends as close as Lea or Carolyn, I have managed to make at least one friend in each of my classes, and in my seminars and my journalism class I feel a lot less like an outsider than I did at the beginning. Not to mention, I've hung out several times with Carolyn's boys, who are great. Also, I've made connections with most of my professors, which is reassuring because that's usually how I operate at home.
-Room tidy: Mostly a success. Lately it's been more difficult, as I've been more busy and staying out later, but all in all I've been a lot neater than I usually am at home.
-One postcard per week: Overall a success, but lately a big fail. I've sent enough postcards to average out one per week, but I have a pile of them on my desk right now that have been sitting there for weeks that I haven't sent. Oops.
-One thing per day I fear: This one is so weird. For about the whole first half of my time here, I was hyper focused on this, and it took a conscious effort to do anything, because I was afraid of everything. I know that I am still afraid of things, like turning in papers and going to seminars and singing in the choir and filming interviews and ordering at pubs and talking to people in shops... but I don't notice it anymore. That is, I don't notice the effort it takes to do these things. I don't know if I'd say I wasn't afraid anymore; rather that I have proportionally more ability to cope with my fear. This is the part of me that I think has changed the most over the past twelve weeks, and the thing that I most hope sticks when I go back home. But, I think it will. I am, of course, so afraid of sliding back into my timid, always-assume-the-worst mindset. In the spirit of not always assuming the worst, however, I am confident that I can keep it up.
-Internships: Just applied to six, but I still have the Tulsa World, Breakthrough Collaborative, and NPR to do when I get back. The point is, I didn’t slack off and miss all the early deadlines like last year.
-Don’t say mean things: This might have been a success simply because I know fewer people about whom to talk. I am converting this one into a goal for when I get back.
With this evaluation, I score myself about an 80%. But that does not take into account all the other stuff I accomplished, which I did not think to incorporate into my goals. Like writing a novel. And embracing feminism. And making a lifelong-caliber friend. And developing a taste for beer. And gin and tonics. And re-investing myself in my faith. And re-wetting my literary appetite. And taking a few excellent photographs. And becoming a regular at a pub. And knowing my way around London. And discovering the electric kettle. And going to the Globe three times. And not wanting to come home.
So, you know. I think I earned some bonus points.
<3
C
That's not fair. I don't really believe this country is stupid. In fact, quite the opposite; I love it here. I can't believe I have to go, without any idea when I might return. Hopefully for grad school, at least. This weekend we went round London taking silly Christmas pictures at places like Abbey Road and Harrods and the South Bank. Every time I go into London I find that I'm going to miss is even more. Kingston I could take or leave. Kingston Uni I could take or leave. Actually I'll be happy to leave Kingston Uni, where I am not impressed with the attitudes of most students. Whatever. London, though. I can't believe I have to go home to Tulsa.
Right now I'm waiting for word from my professor about my English paper, which is probably going to be a fruitless endeavor, so let's revisit my goals.
-5 new countries: Fortunately, this most important of my priorities I have accomplished! Sweden, the Netherlands, the Czech Republic, Austria, and Ireland make exactly five, not to mention France, which I've already visited. This brings the total number of countries I've visited up to a round ten. Awesome.
-Out of the way places: Charleston Farmhouse, yes. Chawton (Jane Austen's house), yes. Charles Dickens' house in London, yes. This one could have been better, but in the last weeks here I decided with the combination of my dwindling funds, my mounting workload and the blistering cold, some of those places, like Durham and Wales, just weren't going to be possible. Which sucks, and is just another reason I wish I could stay longer. But, you know. Grad school.
-London buses: Epic fail. Whatever. Really, everything I ever do in London is either within walking distance of wherever I am, or within walking distance of the Tube. I didn't bother visiting on Tube strike days. Kingston buses, on the other hand, which are a part of the London bus system, I am an expert in. Which is unfortunate because they are all terrible.
-None of my parents' money: Mostly a success. The only substantial thing I used their money for was a travelcard, but really, that's all. Everything else has come out of my savings and money from TU.
-More friends: While I haven't made any friends as close as Lea or Carolyn, I have managed to make at least one friend in each of my classes, and in my seminars and my journalism class I feel a lot less like an outsider than I did at the beginning. Not to mention, I've hung out several times with Carolyn's boys, who are great. Also, I've made connections with most of my professors, which is reassuring because that's usually how I operate at home.
-Room tidy: Mostly a success. Lately it's been more difficult, as I've been more busy and staying out later, but all in all I've been a lot neater than I usually am at home.
-One postcard per week: Overall a success, but lately a big fail. I've sent enough postcards to average out one per week, but I have a pile of them on my desk right now that have been sitting there for weeks that I haven't sent. Oops.
-One thing per day I fear: This one is so weird. For about the whole first half of my time here, I was hyper focused on this, and it took a conscious effort to do anything, because I was afraid of everything. I know that I am still afraid of things, like turning in papers and going to seminars and singing in the choir and filming interviews and ordering at pubs and talking to people in shops... but I don't notice it anymore. That is, I don't notice the effort it takes to do these things. I don't know if I'd say I wasn't afraid anymore; rather that I have proportionally more ability to cope with my fear. This is the part of me that I think has changed the most over the past twelve weeks, and the thing that I most hope sticks when I go back home. But, I think it will. I am, of course, so afraid of sliding back into my timid, always-assume-the-worst mindset. In the spirit of not always assuming the worst, however, I am confident that I can keep it up.
-Internships: Just applied to six, but I still have the Tulsa World, Breakthrough Collaborative, and NPR to do when I get back. The point is, I didn’t slack off and miss all the early deadlines like last year.
-Don’t say mean things: This might have been a success simply because I know fewer people about whom to talk. I am converting this one into a goal for when I get back.
With this evaluation, I score myself about an 80%. But that does not take into account all the other stuff I accomplished, which I did not think to incorporate into my goals. Like writing a novel. And embracing feminism. And making a lifelong-caliber friend. And developing a taste for beer. And gin and tonics. And re-investing myself in my faith. And re-wetting my literary appetite. And taking a few excellent photographs. And becoming a regular at a pub. And knowing my way around London. And discovering the electric kettle. And going to the Globe three times. And not wanting to come home.
So, you know. I think I earned some bonus points.
<3
C
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Perhaps...
...you've noticed my abysmal posting record of late. Rest assured that those days are gone. Prior to Tuesday morning at two thirty, my time was primarily being commandeered by National Novel Writing Month, which for some idiotic reason I decided to attempt this year, despite the ridiculous amount of work I have to do and generally being overwhelmed just by being in this country. And somehow I finished! I completed, for the second time in my life, a 50,000 word novel in the month of November. I now feel I have earned the title "novelist."
A lot of things happened while I was doing all this noveling. I skipped class one day to go to Jane Austen's house, and I skipped class another day because I was in Ireland with my family. Now I am done skipping class, because I have far too much work to do to be missing anything.
Unfortunately the weather does not seem to agree. We had a snow day today — my one class got cancelled. Which is fine with me, because my seven minute walk to the bus in the morning turns to fifteen (at the least) in the snow, and my twenty minute bus ride turns into forty. So not worth it for an hour of class.
So I guess I'll say some things about some things. Like.
Jane's Austen's House!
This is in a tiny village near Alton. This is the house that she spent the last good chunk of her life at, and where she wrote and published most of her stuff. I loved it. The nice thing about out-of-the-way sites like that one is that in the middle of November in the rain and cold, there are virtually no tourists. We almost had the house to ourselves. Unfortunately they do not allow photos inside, but it was worth it to go around. A lot of the stuff is really well preserved, and they have a lot of letters and things on the walls, and some really amazing stuff like her sister Cassandra's watercolors. I got a ton of nerdy stuff from the gift shop. The little village was so cute; about every third house has a legit thatched roof, and I'm sure only about a hundred people live there. Unfortunately the village pub wasn't serving.
It was definitely worth skipping class. I re-read Sense and Sensibility for my term paper in 18th Cent. Lit and I was happy to find that I understood it far better than when I read it in high school, and that I enjoyed it a lot more. I'm sure the two things are linked.
So, that was cool. I'm glad we went when we did, because it was about the last tolerably warm (i.e. not deathly cold) day that we've had.
Then, you know, my parents and brother came to visit me, which had the bittersweet affect of making me super happy the whole week but a lot more homesick after they left. But I'll come back to that and instead talk about...
Ireland!
One of my professors at TU swears that Ireland is magical, and I can see what he means. It was overcast for a lot of our visit, but one thing that really struck me was that the way the sun is, the way the light hits everything, it never quite lights it up properly. Instead it sort of bathes everything in a whiteish glow. It's most pronounced when there's mist or fog, but even on the clear days, the sunlight was never as bright as it is here or at home. It was really strange but really lovely.
I'm glad my family was happy not to spend most of our time in Dublin, because, as most people have told me, the Irish countryside is where it's at. We spent most of our time driving around, visiting castles and cliffs, and popping in to local pubs. Everyone is so friendly, too, and everyone has a dog. The perfect combination of these two features was when the woman selling admission to this ancient ruin site, who had her dogs in the ticket booth with her, let us take one of them for a walk down to the old fort. Who does that? Irish people, that's who. Then, at the Cliffs of Moher, there is a three-legged sheep dog who hangs around for all the tourists to love on him. I think what he used to do is like, lead you up this path to the top of one of the cliffs, but they stopped letting people go there because they would get blown off the cliffs by wind gusts or whatever. There are all these signs everywhere for help with depression for all the people who go there to commit suicide. They don't have those at the Grand Canyon, let me tell you. It sounds awful to say, but it was horrifying and hilarious at the same time.
Our last day we spent in Dublin, which was nice to get to see, but did not capture the imagination quite like Stockholm or Prague. We took one of those bus tours, and we were lucky to get a live instead of a recorded guide as we passed the Guinness brewery (which probably takes up like, half of Dublin). You could tell he loved talking about Guinness. I guess back when it started, it was a really good company to work for; it was the only one at the time to give paid sick days and stuff like that. You can't actually tour the proper brewery anymore, just the museum/shrine to Mr. Guinness, which is too bad. Anyway, the whole time we were around the Guinness quarter, the guy was chattering on and on about Guinness and telling us all these funny stories, and then as soon as he got to the part where he had to announce the next stop, all he said was something along the lines of, "And the next stop is the Modern Art Museum," which was followed by three minutes of dead silence. My dad an I were cracking up; it seemed so stereotypically Irish.
We saw St. Parick's cathedral, (we thought) like good Catholics, but as it turns out, St. Patrick's is actually an Anglican church, thank you Henry VIII. This really upset my mom and me. We came all the way to Ireland and didn't even manage to see a single Catholic church? Ridiculous. But it was beautiful, and really, not being Catholic doesn't diminish it in any way I guess. It's just sort of sad.
The last thing we did was, I sort of tricked my family into agreeing to go to the Dublin Writer's Museum, which after seeing Jane Austen's house, I thought was going to be really cool, but was actually sort of a bust. It was pretty informative, but not all that interesting. I thought it was going to have a lot more artifacts or manuscripts or whatever but it didn't, so much. It more just made me feel guilty about all the stuff I haven't read.
So, all of this was a lot of fun. The rest of the time, I spent going to class and sending my family off on adventures during the day and then meeting them in London in the evening. We saw a couple of shows, and then on Saturday, we did a whirlwind of tourist stuff, including Westminster Abbey, the Churchill War Rooms, and the tour of the Globe. Westminster Abbey was my favorite; poet's corner, where are buried like, all the important writers ever, was really mind-blowing. Dickens is there, and really, countless others. Outside there, on the other side of the wall sort of, I randomly found Aphra Behn. She's barely marked at all, and she's not on the audio guide or whatever, so I was really excited to find her. Her epitaph reads: "Here lies proof that wit can never be/Defence enough against mortality" which is just proof of how much of a badass she was.
Oh, also. I went to the Houses of Parliament, which is cool mostly for all the weird things they told us Parliament does. And the copy of the Magna Carta that is just chillin on one of the walls.
So. That all happened. And now I have a hot 18 days before I come back home. Having my family here has made me really really homesick. I mean, I still love London, and I would be happy to live here forever, but right now my life is in Tulsa and I woud like to get back to it. It doesn't help that I have a mountain of homework to do before I can leave. Four papers, two films, a still portrait of God-knows-who. If I finish one paper this weekend, one paper next week, one paper next weekend, and the last paper the last week, I should be okay on that score. Then as long as I can get my stuff filmed over the course of the coming week, I should be able to edit over the last week, and that should be okay. I just really do not know who to photograph for my portfolio. It has to be of a Kingston "hero." I have only lived in Kingston for three months. I don't know any heroes. So that's going to be an issue.
As long as I can get through the work, however, I am going to survive. There have been times when I really did not want to leave England at all. Those days are mostly over. I am going to miss it so much, but right now I really just want to be home. Every time I see something about Christmas in Tulsa, I just miss it more. I thought I was going to be able to switch my flight and come home a day early, but that isn't possible.
I don't think this would be so bad if it were not snowing and a complete ordeal to get anywhere. But the trains aren't running, so I can't even get into London. Oh well.
I hope to be able to post several more times before I go, and at some point I should re-evaluate my goals. Get super psyched for that!
Peace.
C
A lot of things happened while I was doing all this noveling. I skipped class one day to go to Jane Austen's house, and I skipped class another day because I was in Ireland with my family. Now I am done skipping class, because I have far too much work to do to be missing anything.
Unfortunately the weather does not seem to agree. We had a snow day today — my one class got cancelled. Which is fine with me, because my seven minute walk to the bus in the morning turns to fifteen (at the least) in the snow, and my twenty minute bus ride turns into forty. So not worth it for an hour of class.
So I guess I'll say some things about some things. Like.
Jane's Austen's House!
This is in a tiny village near Alton. This is the house that she spent the last good chunk of her life at, and where she wrote and published most of her stuff. I loved it. The nice thing about out-of-the-way sites like that one is that in the middle of November in the rain and cold, there are virtually no tourists. We almost had the house to ourselves. Unfortunately they do not allow photos inside, but it was worth it to go around. A lot of the stuff is really well preserved, and they have a lot of letters and things on the walls, and some really amazing stuff like her sister Cassandra's watercolors. I got a ton of nerdy stuff from the gift shop. The little village was so cute; about every third house has a legit thatched roof, and I'm sure only about a hundred people live there. Unfortunately the village pub wasn't serving.
It was definitely worth skipping class. I re-read Sense and Sensibility for my term paper in 18th Cent. Lit and I was happy to find that I understood it far better than when I read it in high school, and that I enjoyed it a lot more. I'm sure the two things are linked.
So, that was cool. I'm glad we went when we did, because it was about the last tolerably warm (i.e. not deathly cold) day that we've had.
Then, you know, my parents and brother came to visit me, which had the bittersweet affect of making me super happy the whole week but a lot more homesick after they left. But I'll come back to that and instead talk about...
Ireland!
One of my professors at TU swears that Ireland is magical, and I can see what he means. It was overcast for a lot of our visit, but one thing that really struck me was that the way the sun is, the way the light hits everything, it never quite lights it up properly. Instead it sort of bathes everything in a whiteish glow. It's most pronounced when there's mist or fog, but even on the clear days, the sunlight was never as bright as it is here or at home. It was really strange but really lovely.
I'm glad my family was happy not to spend most of our time in Dublin, because, as most people have told me, the Irish countryside is where it's at. We spent most of our time driving around, visiting castles and cliffs, and popping in to local pubs. Everyone is so friendly, too, and everyone has a dog. The perfect combination of these two features was when the woman selling admission to this ancient ruin site, who had her dogs in the ticket booth with her, let us take one of them for a walk down to the old fort. Who does that? Irish people, that's who. Then, at the Cliffs of Moher, there is a three-legged sheep dog who hangs around for all the tourists to love on him. I think what he used to do is like, lead you up this path to the top of one of the cliffs, but they stopped letting people go there because they would get blown off the cliffs by wind gusts or whatever. There are all these signs everywhere for help with depression for all the people who go there to commit suicide. They don't have those at the Grand Canyon, let me tell you. It sounds awful to say, but it was horrifying and hilarious at the same time.
Our last day we spent in Dublin, which was nice to get to see, but did not capture the imagination quite like Stockholm or Prague. We took one of those bus tours, and we were lucky to get a live instead of a recorded guide as we passed the Guinness brewery (which probably takes up like, half of Dublin). You could tell he loved talking about Guinness. I guess back when it started, it was a really good company to work for; it was the only one at the time to give paid sick days and stuff like that. You can't actually tour the proper brewery anymore, just the museum/shrine to Mr. Guinness, which is too bad. Anyway, the whole time we were around the Guinness quarter, the guy was chattering on and on about Guinness and telling us all these funny stories, and then as soon as he got to the part where he had to announce the next stop, all he said was something along the lines of, "And the next stop is the Modern Art Museum," which was followed by three minutes of dead silence. My dad an I were cracking up; it seemed so stereotypically Irish.
We saw St. Parick's cathedral, (we thought) like good Catholics, but as it turns out, St. Patrick's is actually an Anglican church, thank you Henry VIII. This really upset my mom and me. We came all the way to Ireland and didn't even manage to see a single Catholic church? Ridiculous. But it was beautiful, and really, not being Catholic doesn't diminish it in any way I guess. It's just sort of sad.
The last thing we did was, I sort of tricked my family into agreeing to go to the Dublin Writer's Museum, which after seeing Jane Austen's house, I thought was going to be really cool, but was actually sort of a bust. It was pretty informative, but not all that interesting. I thought it was going to have a lot more artifacts or manuscripts or whatever but it didn't, so much. It more just made me feel guilty about all the stuff I haven't read.
So, all of this was a lot of fun. The rest of the time, I spent going to class and sending my family off on adventures during the day and then meeting them in London in the evening. We saw a couple of shows, and then on Saturday, we did a whirlwind of tourist stuff, including Westminster Abbey, the Churchill War Rooms, and the tour of the Globe. Westminster Abbey was my favorite; poet's corner, where are buried like, all the important writers ever, was really mind-blowing. Dickens is there, and really, countless others. Outside there, on the other side of the wall sort of, I randomly found Aphra Behn. She's barely marked at all, and she's not on the audio guide or whatever, so I was really excited to find her. Her epitaph reads: "Here lies proof that wit can never be/Defence enough against mortality" which is just proof of how much of a badass she was.
Oh, also. I went to the Houses of Parliament, which is cool mostly for all the weird things they told us Parliament does. And the copy of the Magna Carta that is just chillin on one of the walls.
So. That all happened. And now I have a hot 18 days before I come back home. Having my family here has made me really really homesick. I mean, I still love London, and I would be happy to live here forever, but right now my life is in Tulsa and I woud like to get back to it. It doesn't help that I have a mountain of homework to do before I can leave. Four papers, two films, a still portrait of God-knows-who. If I finish one paper this weekend, one paper next week, one paper next weekend, and the last paper the last week, I should be okay on that score. Then as long as I can get my stuff filmed over the course of the coming week, I should be able to edit over the last week, and that should be okay. I just really do not know who to photograph for my portfolio. It has to be of a Kingston "hero." I have only lived in Kingston for three months. I don't know any heroes. So that's going to be an issue.
As long as I can get through the work, however, I am going to survive. There have been times when I really did not want to leave England at all. Those days are mostly over. I am going to miss it so much, but right now I really just want to be home. Every time I see something about Christmas in Tulsa, I just miss it more. I thought I was going to be able to switch my flight and come home a day early, but that isn't possible.
I don't think this would be so bad if it were not snowing and a complete ordeal to get anywhere. But the trains aren't running, so I can't even get into London. Oh well.
I hope to be able to post several more times before I go, and at some point I should re-evaluate my goals. Get super psyched for that!
Peace.
C
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Profusions
To start out today*, I am going to address a question brought up by my uncle David in a comment on my last post. He asks whether in England, when passing each other in the halls, people automatically walk on the left side, as we in America generally walk on the right. This is an excellent question which I will address before regaling you all with tales of my adventures.
The short answer is: hell no they do not. And it is probably the most irritating thing in the entire world. Even in busy cities in America, people are usually surprisingly good about walking on the right side of the street or hall. Not in England. I thought for a while that this was because London is so heavily populated with people who come from countries where they drive on the right — with Londoners trying to walk on the left and everyone else trying to walk on the right, it would cause trouble, but that's not the case. For some reason, pretty much no one in Europe has learned this trick. I know this, because I have now been a lot of places in Europe (you like that segue? huh? huh?). For instance, in
THE NETHERLANDS
there is definitely no discernable walking pattern. I don't really blame the Dutch, however, because their streets have like 57 separate lanes for all different forms of transportation. Here is a quote from Tara, after remarking how weird the traffic signals for busses are: "I guess they have to make them different from the lights for cars. Aaaand for pedestrians. And for bikes." Because all of those things have different signals, lanes and rules. If I hadn't been with Tara I probably would have died, not least because now I'm used to watching for cars coming from the right instead of the left. It is going to be a nightmare re-learning to drive when I come back.
The great thing about the Netherlands is that everyone rides a bike. I am pretty sure it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that 90% of citizens own bikes. That is just the way you get around, especially in cities. I loved it, and I really wish more places in the States were like that, so I could move there. As it is, I would be perfectly pleased to live in a place like Utrecht, which is lovely and one of my favorite places I've visited. Amsterdam was also surprising as well, given its stigma, but it is actually a beautiful city with a lot of cool things to do (other than drugs). We went to the museum where they keep Rembrandt's Night Watch (those of you who were on academic team in high school will really appreciate that), which actually isn't a night scene at all, and just looks dark because of how it's changed over time. It was awesome though; it's like the size of a wall — not disappointing and tiny like the Mona Lisa.
A dirtier and not-so-bicycle-friendly place is
THE CZECH REPUBLIC
but that is okay because it is officially my favorite place in continental Europe. It's dirtier and not as many people speak English. The tourist shops are garish. I have all this Czech money left over that I can do nothing with. But Prague feels real. I don't know how to explain it other than that. I loved it so much. Maybe because they don't have quite as much tourism as some places in Europe, it is super-friendly to travelers; our hostel was like a palace. And everyone that we talked to (except who worked at the train station, but everyone who works at a train station automatically hates their lives I'm pretty sure) was totally nice and helpful, even if they didn't have any English. I just felt really welcome there.
And it wasn't just Prague. We went out for a day to a town called Kutna Hora that we randomly found in Carolyn's guidebook whose claim to fame, other than one of the best example of Gothic cathedral architecture at St. Barbara's (patron saint of miners; Kutna Hora used to be a silver mining town), is the bone church. There's a tiny church on the edge of Kutna Hora whose graveyard was used as a place to put bodies of plague victims. A few hundred years ago, a half-blind monk who lived around there started using the bones in the graveyard to make sculptures and decorations for the church. The chandelier is constructed using every bone in the human body.
The short answer is: hell no they do not. And it is probably the most irritating thing in the entire world. Even in busy cities in America, people are usually surprisingly good about walking on the right side of the street or hall. Not in England. I thought for a while that this was because London is so heavily populated with people who come from countries where they drive on the right — with Londoners trying to walk on the left and everyone else trying to walk on the right, it would cause trouble, but that's not the case. For some reason, pretty much no one in Europe has learned this trick. I know this, because I have now been a lot of places in Europe (you like that segue? huh? huh?). For instance, in
THE NETHERLANDS
there is definitely no discernable walking pattern. I don't really blame the Dutch, however, because their streets have like 57 separate lanes for all different forms of transportation. Here is a quote from Tara, after remarking how weird the traffic signals for busses are: "I guess they have to make them different from the lights for cars. Aaaand for pedestrians. And for bikes." Because all of those things have different signals, lanes and rules. If I hadn't been with Tara I probably would have died, not least because now I'm used to watching for cars coming from the right instead of the left. It is going to be a nightmare re-learning to drive when I come back.
The great thing about the Netherlands is that everyone rides a bike. I am pretty sure it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that 90% of citizens own bikes. That is just the way you get around, especially in cities. I loved it, and I really wish more places in the States were like that, so I could move there. As it is, I would be perfectly pleased to live in a place like Utrecht, which is lovely and one of my favorite places I've visited. Amsterdam was also surprising as well, given its stigma, but it is actually a beautiful city with a lot of cool things to do (other than drugs). We went to the museum where they keep Rembrandt's Night Watch (those of you who were on academic team in high school will really appreciate that), which actually isn't a night scene at all, and just looks dark because of how it's changed over time. It was awesome though; it's like the size of a wall — not disappointing and tiny like the Mona Lisa.
A dirtier and not-so-bicycle-friendly place is
THE CZECH REPUBLIC
but that is okay because it is officially my favorite place in continental Europe. It's dirtier and not as many people speak English. The tourist shops are garish. I have all this Czech money left over that I can do nothing with. But Prague feels real. I don't know how to explain it other than that. I loved it so much. Maybe because they don't have quite as much tourism as some places in Europe, it is super-friendly to travelers; our hostel was like a palace. And everyone that we talked to (except who worked at the train station, but everyone who works at a train station automatically hates their lives I'm pretty sure) was totally nice and helpful, even if they didn't have any English. I just felt really welcome there.
And it wasn't just Prague. We went out for a day to a town called Kutna Hora that we randomly found in Carolyn's guidebook whose claim to fame, other than one of the best example of Gothic cathedral architecture at St. Barbara's (patron saint of miners; Kutna Hora used to be a silver mining town), is the bone church. There's a tiny church on the edge of Kutna Hora whose graveyard was used as a place to put bodies of plague victims. A few hundred years ago, a half-blind monk who lived around there started using the bones in the graveyard to make sculptures and decorations for the church. The chandelier is constructed using every bone in the human body.
They estimate the church is decorated with remains from about 40,000 people. It is one of the most bizarre things I have ever seen. It may just top the list.
We also went to St. Barabara's and a museum full of Czech art from the 70s and 80s, and it turns out that Czech modern art is some of my favorite. A pleasant surprise, and fitting with my whole fantastic experience in that place. It's tough to realize that one can't live everywhere, but Prague is a place I am making a priority.
A place I would also like to live, but only in certain places, and one that is not necessarily a priority is
AUSTRIA.
Vienna is quite possibly the most beautiful city I have ever seen, but I am glad we weren't there for very long, because it is also entirely overwhelming. Everything important is squeezed into a tiny radius of space, and pretty much every building in that radius is a masterwork of architecture. It is a lot like being in a huge art museum... you soon grow exhausted of masterpieces.
The main attraction we did was the Belvedere museum: again, completely overwhelming. It has a ton of Kilmt, including The Kiss, and it also had a traveling exhibition on Rodin that we were lucky to catch. The guy at our hostel when we first went out was giving us recommendations, and when he heard we were going to the Belvedere he just said, "Oh, that's very nice too." Understatement of the century.
We lunched at an Ottakringer brewery. Delicious food and delicious beer.
We did get to see the Vienna ballet, which was excellent. Actually, I was only impressed by half the performance, and I did not feel that they were any better than the Tulsa Ballet. But, it was really great to see, and I was especially excited because I'd seen one of the pieces before: The Vertiginous Thrill of Exactitude. It's one of my favorites.
Of our time in Austria, just one day was in Vienna. The second day we took a train to Salzburg and took the Sound of Music tour. It was nice to get to see Salzburg and the mountains around it, which is were the tour ended, but we did not unfortunately get to actually see much about the Sound of Music. We saw the gazebo, which was great, and the church where Captain von Trapp and Maria get married. Our guide was a huge freak. But Salzburg is almost unbearable cute, though it felt more livable than Vienna. I'd really like to go back and spend some time there some day.
All in all, we had a hugely successful trip, but by the end of the tenth day of travel I was exhausted, and really happy to be home (such as it is) in the Berrylands. I'm in the home stretch (literally) of this whole experience, and it's a bittersweet kind of feeling.
*Note: I actually started writing this post a week ago but never finished. I did not mean to slack on my blog, but it just happened. I'll soon be writing more about my continually changing view of Enland, probably within the next couple of days. Check out my facebook page for pictures from all these places.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Paul Simon
or
I'm on my way; I don't know where I'm goin'
Okay, that's not entirely true. I technically know where I'm going: Utrecht, Amsterdam, Prague, Vienna, Salzburg. But really, that is the extent of my planning.
I am already loving ferry travel. Checking in was super easy, there was practically no security hassle, my cabin is (so far) empty of other passengers, there is free wi-fi, and you have lots of room to wander around. The only downsides I have detected so far are that everything is pretty expensive, and the bar won't make me a Sidecar. Fortunately, savvy traveler that I am, I expected the first hurdle and have surmounted by packing my own food: a sleeve of milk chocolate oatmeal cookies. The second issue can't be helped I suppose.
Right now I am sitting in the coffee bar/lounge by a window looking out on the rainy port sipping a coffee. It is very peaceful. Barack Obama is giving a speech on CNN, which they have streaming on one of the TVs opposite. I am trying not to glance over, because it is making me feel like a bad citizen for not having a clue what is going on in my country right now. Oh well.
I noticed as I was walking to the bus with my suitcase earlier that I have approached this trip with a vastly different attitude than any of the other journeys upon which I have embarked in recent memory. I have been trying to examine why that is.
It probably has a lot to do with the fact that I know I am going to be around friends. It is a really comforting thought that I'll be with Tara tomorrow, and I'll be with Carolyn on Tuesday and for the rest of the week. A lot of the problem in the past has been just having to dive into the unknown. That was certainly the case with Sweden, and especially with initially coming to the U.K.
For another, I am not leaving any person of whom I am particularly sad to take my leave. The exception is my roommate, Lea, but it is not like if I stayed, I'd be able to hang out with her. She is going to spend her fall break with her friend Lauren, where she is studying in Italy this semester.
Additionally, I'm only going to be gone for ten days. Not 4 months.
So, this all explains why I am not terrified of doing this. But then, why am I so excited? I suppose because I have never been to any of these places, and we have a lot of excellent prospects for stuff to do. And you know, the absence of a lot of fear helps excitement actually to manifest. But, you know. I'd also like to think that maybe I have gotten just a tad bit braver, after having spent nearly two months pretty much on my own on another continent? At least, I really hope that has something to do with it.
Anyhoo. I can feel the engine just started; I think we are supposed to leave in like 15. I have to dash off one more cover letter tonight I guess, so that I can send off the last of my internship apps tomorrow: Denver Post, Seattle Times, St. Petersburg Times.
Hope everyone has a good weekend, and don't forget to vote. No on 744!!
<3
C
I'm on my way; I don't know where I'm goin'
Okay, that's not entirely true. I technically know where I'm going: Utrecht, Amsterdam, Prague, Vienna, Salzburg. But really, that is the extent of my planning.
I am already loving ferry travel. Checking in was super easy, there was practically no security hassle, my cabin is (so far) empty of other passengers, there is free wi-fi, and you have lots of room to wander around. The only downsides I have detected so far are that everything is pretty expensive, and the bar won't make me a Sidecar. Fortunately, savvy traveler that I am, I expected the first hurdle and have surmounted by packing my own food: a sleeve of milk chocolate oatmeal cookies. The second issue can't be helped I suppose.
Right now I am sitting in the coffee bar/lounge by a window looking out on the rainy port sipping a coffee. It is very peaceful. Barack Obama is giving a speech on CNN, which they have streaming on one of the TVs opposite. I am trying not to glance over, because it is making me feel like a bad citizen for not having a clue what is going on in my country right now. Oh well.
I noticed as I was walking to the bus with my suitcase earlier that I have approached this trip with a vastly different attitude than any of the other journeys upon which I have embarked in recent memory. I have been trying to examine why that is.
It probably has a lot to do with the fact that I know I am going to be around friends. It is a really comforting thought that I'll be with Tara tomorrow, and I'll be with Carolyn on Tuesday and for the rest of the week. A lot of the problem in the past has been just having to dive into the unknown. That was certainly the case with Sweden, and especially with initially coming to the U.K.
For another, I am not leaving any person of whom I am particularly sad to take my leave. The exception is my roommate, Lea, but it is not like if I stayed, I'd be able to hang out with her. She is going to spend her fall break with her friend Lauren, where she is studying in Italy this semester.
Additionally, I'm only going to be gone for ten days. Not 4 months.
So, this all explains why I am not terrified of doing this. But then, why am I so excited? I suppose because I have never been to any of these places, and we have a lot of excellent prospects for stuff to do. And you know, the absence of a lot of fear helps excitement actually to manifest. But, you know. I'd also like to think that maybe I have gotten just a tad bit braver, after having spent nearly two months pretty much on my own on another continent? At least, I really hope that has something to do with it.
Anyhoo. I can feel the engine just started; I think we are supposed to leave in like 15. I have to dash off one more cover letter tonight I guess, so that I can send off the last of my internship apps tomorrow: Denver Post, Seattle Times, St. Petersburg Times.
Hope everyone has a good weekend, and don't forget to vote. No on 744!!
<3
C
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Parachute
I'm running out of p words.
I have been hard at work on internship applications all last night and this morning, and my eyes are nearly bleeding from filling out employer information and writing cover letters, so I'm taking a break and devoting it to my readers. Lucky you!
I guess I could have called this post "Paris" since I haven't given an update about that yet. So, yeah, some words about Paris:
It is a beautiful place. Bet you didn't know that, right? Bet that's some really big news to you, isn't it?
Well, yeah. It is. The thing about Paris, though, is that although pretty much every street and alley and view is lovely, close up it is kind of grody. It's just a dirty city. So far in London I haven't noticed a huge amount of trash on the ground or graffiti on the walls, but in Paris that stuff is pretty much everywhere, except for the super-expensive places. Alright, London's no Stockholm, but it's respectably clean. Where Paris beats London though is staying true to traditional architecture, at least in the city. For on thing, many places in London got destroyed in the Blitz, and some of the newer buildings are just really depressing eyesores. That is something I didn't see in Paris, really.
Didn't really notice too much rudeness, either—they say that's one of the worst things about Paris, but as long as you say, "Bon jour, parley vous engles?" (I'm sure I butchered that spelling), they are pretty happy to help you. The first night we were there, we checked into our hostel and went down the street to a cafe/bar (right across from the Moulin Rouge!) and ordered Sidecars (Carolyn and I are both Princess Diaries fans; if you've read them you understand why that's amusing). I don't know why, but our waiter and the bartenders were really tickled that we ordered them. No idea what they were saying, but they were totally making fun of us in French. Whatever. They were delicious, and it is totally my new favorite drink.
Saturday morning, we went to explore the graveyard where Oscar Wilde is buried, along with Sarah Bernhardt, Jim Morrison, Isadora Duncan, Marcel Proust, Moliere and a host of others. We wandered that damn graveyard looking for Sarah and Proust for ages, and we must have passed right by them like 20 times, but we never found them. We did find Jim, Isadora (who's cremated), Moliere and Oscar Wilde though. Wilde's grave is great; its covered in red kiss marks and little thank-you notes to him and stuff. (Jim Morrison's is as well, but I was more excited about Wilde). I wrote a tiny little "THANKS -C" on it. I hope he sees it.
After this we went to eat—French food is DELICIOUS—and had a wander up the Seine past Notre Dame, the Louvre and the Royal Palais toward the Paris Opera.
Carolyn and I have both seen Paris before, which was a really big advantage to this little weekend trip. Neither of us really wanted to go see the Louvre again, or needed to go up the Eiffel Tower, or walk up the Champs Elysees. That gave us a lot more freedom to be relaxed tourists instead of crazy time-budgeting ones. Plus, Carolyn's friend Elizabeth who is studying in Paris was able to take us around and show us some great out-of-the-way places.
The Paris Opera was one thing we'd neither of us seen before, so we paid 5 euro to have a look inside. It is the first place I've seen this term that I would describe as opulent. The Brighton palace came close, but this was still the most extravagant and intricate interior designing I've ever seen. I wish we'd gotten a chance to see Paquita, like we planned, but it didn't end up working out. Seeing inside the place was still a treat, though. I had Phantom of the Opera stuck in my head for a long time, because you can totally see Andre and Firmin freaking out on the entrance hall stairs, or imagine a ghost haunting the back rooms on the sides and stuff. It was so cool. I wish we could have gone down to see the lake underneath the stage—it's real; it's there for acoustics—but I get the feeling access to that is pretty exclusive.
We spent the rest of our weekend window and flea market shopping, pub crawling and chocolate buying. On Sunday morning I went to Mass at the basilica on Montmartre, where our hostel was, and where I went to Mass last time I was in Paris. Last time though, it was a Wednesday evening, and no one was around, and they shuffled out all the tourists before they started the service. This time, not so much. It was weird to have this constant stream of onlookers wandering past as Mass was going on. But, oh man, I wouldn't have been surprised if the organist had been the Phantom of the Opera himself, he was so good. And he played all this ridiculous dramatic organ music pretty much all throughout the ceremony. It was so neat.
Anyhoo. Paris was awesome, but what was even more awesome was the feeling of relief to be able to come home to London. I can't believe it's even possible for me to write that.
Plus, I've had a fantastic week here so far. Monday I started filming the interview and other footage for my first film for video journalism (Carolyn's story about her first time going to the Globe) and I think it is going to be excellent. I can't wait to get started editing when I get back from fall break. Tuesday I ran errands in Kingston, but then went up to London to meet up with Peter and have a drink. It was awesome to get to see him—I have really enjoyed being around him and Tara, people who know what I'm talking about when I talk about McFarlin or the Schroeders or poor Igor. It's refreshing in a way. Plus, we went to this excellent pub, the Cheshire Cheese, which looks like the Leaky Cauldron on the outside and is where Charles Dickens wrote books. Also, it sells pints for £2, a price unheard of pretty much everywhere else in the greater London area, except for Wednesdays at the Berry. I think I am going to be frequenting it a lot this coming month, because I am crazy and am going to try to do National Novel Writing Month (write a 50,000-word novel in November), and I think it will be a good place to go and be inspired.
Yesterday I finished filming Carolyn, and we went for fish and chips at the great pub by the Globe. She went to go see a show, and I went to find an independent bookstore I found online. Turns out Charing Cross Road is like London's bookstore capital, so I had a lot of fun looking around at all the little places. The first place I went to, the one I was trying to find, is called Foyles, and it's like an independent version of Borders. What makes it way cooler than Borders is that it has a far wider selection, and I had a lot of fun browsing titles. I purchased a Hungarian phrasebook and another book (a surprise) for Meredith and a collection of Seamus Heaney poems called District and Circle. I love that I'm enough of a Londoner to understand that title. On the next corner there was a tiny little discount bookstore, crammed with stacks of thrift-edition classics for just £2. I bought Anne Bronte's second book, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall.
And so we come back to me filling out internship apps. I am almost done with the State Department and am working on the Washington Post, St. Petersburg Times, and Seattle Times. I still have to call the Denver Post to see if I can submit my stuff electronically. Basically all I need to do still for these places is write a couple of cover letters, but filling out the damn apps online is so time consuming and boring. I'd much rather be writing long and rambling blog posts about the random things I do in the U.K.
Ooookay. Back to the grind now I guess. I'll probably update when I get onto the ferry to go see Tara.
Peace.
I have been hard at work on internship applications all last night and this morning, and my eyes are nearly bleeding from filling out employer information and writing cover letters, so I'm taking a break and devoting it to my readers. Lucky you!
I guess I could have called this post "Paris" since I haven't given an update about that yet. So, yeah, some words about Paris:
It is a beautiful place. Bet you didn't know that, right? Bet that's some really big news to you, isn't it?
Well, yeah. It is. The thing about Paris, though, is that although pretty much every street and alley and view is lovely, close up it is kind of grody. It's just a dirty city. So far in London I haven't noticed a huge amount of trash on the ground or graffiti on the walls, but in Paris that stuff is pretty much everywhere, except for the super-expensive places. Alright, London's no Stockholm, but it's respectably clean. Where Paris beats London though is staying true to traditional architecture, at least in the city. For on thing, many places in London got destroyed in the Blitz, and some of the newer buildings are just really depressing eyesores. That is something I didn't see in Paris, really.
Didn't really notice too much rudeness, either—they say that's one of the worst things about Paris, but as long as you say, "Bon jour, parley vous engles?" (I'm sure I butchered that spelling), they are pretty happy to help you. The first night we were there, we checked into our hostel and went down the street to a cafe/bar (right across from the Moulin Rouge!) and ordered Sidecars (Carolyn and I are both Princess Diaries fans; if you've read them you understand why that's amusing). I don't know why, but our waiter and the bartenders were really tickled that we ordered them. No idea what they were saying, but they were totally making fun of us in French. Whatever. They were delicious, and it is totally my new favorite drink.
Saturday morning, we went to explore the graveyard where Oscar Wilde is buried, along with Sarah Bernhardt, Jim Morrison, Isadora Duncan, Marcel Proust, Moliere and a host of others. We wandered that damn graveyard looking for Sarah and Proust for ages, and we must have passed right by them like 20 times, but we never found them. We did find Jim, Isadora (who's cremated), Moliere and Oscar Wilde though. Wilde's grave is great; its covered in red kiss marks and little thank-you notes to him and stuff. (Jim Morrison's is as well, but I was more excited about Wilde). I wrote a tiny little "THANKS -C" on it. I hope he sees it.
After this we went to eat—French food is DELICIOUS—and had a wander up the Seine past Notre Dame, the Louvre and the Royal Palais toward the Paris Opera.
Carolyn and I have both seen Paris before, which was a really big advantage to this little weekend trip. Neither of us really wanted to go see the Louvre again, or needed to go up the Eiffel Tower, or walk up the Champs Elysees. That gave us a lot more freedom to be relaxed tourists instead of crazy time-budgeting ones. Plus, Carolyn's friend Elizabeth who is studying in Paris was able to take us around and show us some great out-of-the-way places.
The Paris Opera was one thing we'd neither of us seen before, so we paid 5 euro to have a look inside. It is the first place I've seen this term that I would describe as opulent. The Brighton palace came close, but this was still the most extravagant and intricate interior designing I've ever seen. I wish we'd gotten a chance to see Paquita, like we planned, but it didn't end up working out. Seeing inside the place was still a treat, though. I had Phantom of the Opera stuck in my head for a long time, because you can totally see Andre and Firmin freaking out on the entrance hall stairs, or imagine a ghost haunting the back rooms on the sides and stuff. It was so cool. I wish we could have gone down to see the lake underneath the stage—it's real; it's there for acoustics—but I get the feeling access to that is pretty exclusive.
We spent the rest of our weekend window and flea market shopping, pub crawling and chocolate buying. On Sunday morning I went to Mass at the basilica on Montmartre, where our hostel was, and where I went to Mass last time I was in Paris. Last time though, it was a Wednesday evening, and no one was around, and they shuffled out all the tourists before they started the service. This time, not so much. It was weird to have this constant stream of onlookers wandering past as Mass was going on. But, oh man, I wouldn't have been surprised if the organist had been the Phantom of the Opera himself, he was so good. And he played all this ridiculous dramatic organ music pretty much all throughout the ceremony. It was so neat.
Anyhoo. Paris was awesome, but what was even more awesome was the feeling of relief to be able to come home to London. I can't believe it's even possible for me to write that.
Plus, I've had a fantastic week here so far. Monday I started filming the interview and other footage for my first film for video journalism (Carolyn's story about her first time going to the Globe) and I think it is going to be excellent. I can't wait to get started editing when I get back from fall break. Tuesday I ran errands in Kingston, but then went up to London to meet up with Peter and have a drink. It was awesome to get to see him—I have really enjoyed being around him and Tara, people who know what I'm talking about when I talk about McFarlin or the Schroeders or poor Igor. It's refreshing in a way. Plus, we went to this excellent pub, the Cheshire Cheese, which looks like the Leaky Cauldron on the outside and is where Charles Dickens wrote books. Also, it sells pints for £2, a price unheard of pretty much everywhere else in the greater London area, except for Wednesdays at the Berry. I think I am going to be frequenting it a lot this coming month, because I am crazy and am going to try to do National Novel Writing Month (write a 50,000-word novel in November), and I think it will be a good place to go and be inspired.
Yesterday I finished filming Carolyn, and we went for fish and chips at the great pub by the Globe. She went to go see a show, and I went to find an independent bookstore I found online. Turns out Charing Cross Road is like London's bookstore capital, so I had a lot of fun looking around at all the little places. The first place I went to, the one I was trying to find, is called Foyles, and it's like an independent version of Borders. What makes it way cooler than Borders is that it has a far wider selection, and I had a lot of fun browsing titles. I purchased a Hungarian phrasebook and another book (a surprise) for Meredith and a collection of Seamus Heaney poems called District and Circle. I love that I'm enough of a Londoner to understand that title. On the next corner there was a tiny little discount bookstore, crammed with stacks of thrift-edition classics for just £2. I bought Anne Bronte's second book, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall.
And so we come back to me filling out internship apps. I am almost done with the State Department and am working on the Washington Post, St. Petersburg Times, and Seattle Times. I still have to call the Denver Post to see if I can submit my stuff electronically. Basically all I need to do still for these places is write a couple of cover letters, but filling out the damn apps online is so time consuming and boring. I'd much rather be writing long and rambling blog posts about the random things I do in the U.K.
Ooookay. Back to the grind now I guess. I'll probably update when I get onto the ferry to go see Tara.
Peace.
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