Another two day update
These seem to be coming in pairs for reasons I’m not entirely clear on. C’est la vie, I suppose.
Thursday marked the first interesting class of the year, so congratulations to Royce for pulling it together. Despite a useless reading on Film tricks (Look for make up choices and hairstyles, also, definitions of plot….sweet) we had a solid discussion on the Satanic Verses, the portrayals of Britain when done through the lens of an immigrant, and Enoch Powell’s “Rivers of Blood” speech, which read like Mein Kampf, but with an editor.
After class, a few of us headed to Forbidden Planet, which could easily be renamed Nerd Mecca. Walls of manga, anime, graphic novels, Star Wars toys, Lord of the Rings models, Dr. Who playsets and every other cult phenomenon paraphernalia one could ever want. Sadly, all the DVDs were region 2, I couldn’t bring myself to buy a copy of Watchman (likelihood of my acquisition of one before the flight home: 91%), and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t talk myself into buying Scott a scale model Balrog. It was winged and covered in flame and completely awesome.
Unfortunately, it was also 300 pounds. Schade.
Upon leaving heaven, we ventured towards Leicester Square, and ended up at Seven Dials, where we had seen Chicago a few nights before. This time, the shops were open and we lingered along the way. We found a few odd shops which were incredibly wonderful, if a tad bit overpriced, such is the curse of obscurity. Many were filled with odds and ends: a picture of the Great Wave with rabbits instead of white water, a small model of the Cat Bus from My Neighbor Totoro, wallets made out of air mail, etc. Places like that (Minneapolis’ Electric Fetus has the same vibe, but with LPs too!) make me ridiculously happy. I’m not sure if it’s the electic mix of things therein or the terribly obscure nature of their items ( I was happy to know the references of 80% of the things one shop had), but whatever the reason, I often miss stores like that, and I’ll probably be back at this one before the trip ends.
The next store was the Orc’s Nest, a Games-by-James in two floors and 1/8th the space. D&D books were everywhere and I was ruing the lack of a good DM on this trip, because I would totally love to play a full dungeon this time. The best product there, and really, in the known universe, was a card game simply titled “Yetisburg”.
The back was unclear on how the game worked, and none of us wanted to pony up the cash to buy it. Nevertheless, there exists a game called Yetisburg, with abominable snowmen dressed as Pickett and Grant, and the knowledge of that is good enough for me.
The rest of the evening was quiet. Dr. Who played in the lounge, along with Nevermind the Buzzcocks and regrettably, Beautiful People. The early morning meant that people wanted to sleep, and I fully understood.
………
Morning came WAY too early. I haven’t been sleeping well because of the terrible beds and my shoulder. My shoulder, which hasn’t really bothered me in years other than occasionally slipping out, is now quite sore, and I think its because I sleep almost exclusively on my sides. It could also be related to my neck which hasn’t fully recovered from cradling a phone in there for a few hours a day this summer. Whatever the reason, its an odd injury to have popping up once again.
We left for Old Baily at 9:35, 5 min late. This will be relevant later. Easy trip, really, Picadilly Line to Holburn, then Central Line to St. Paul’s. Show up at 9:30 in the lobby and we’d be fine, 9:15 if you wanted to mess with having a camera or phone (neither of which was allowed in court, but might have been nice to have for the rest of the day).
One of my biggest pet peeves is slow walkers, people who cannot, for whatever reason, keep up. I had short legs for many years, MANY, and yet I learned to walk with greater pace. It’s a curse now that I don’t have short legs, because almost no one keeps up with me. Fine, my pace isn’t the group’s, but the group’s pace is still much faster than some peoples.
So, we stopped up top at South Ken, Emily told everyone (who was there) the route and we moved on. As usual, we got split up into different cars, 24 people being hard to pack into one Tube car.
Apparently, we had left a few people, back at the dorm in fact. Remember, we left late as it was. This really pissed off a few people in the group who felt that Emily didn’t care, and they sought my support in confronting her. They also complained that no one knew how to get where we were going.
Once again, I’m going to blame Boychoir for the idea that, shockingly, if you’re late and get behind the group…its not the leader’s fault. The found no comfort from me, afterall, we left late and they were still walking slowly. Bad combo guys, quit your bitching and start walking.
The trial at the Old Baily was interesting, though we lacked the proper background to really get into it. It was an assault, possibly drug or theft related, and it centered around the man on the stand, who, for all his faults was a terribly efficient liar. The attorney battered him around for a good 25 min about how often he’d been caught lying to the police. She was condescending, completely terrifying, and looked downright silly in the curled wig they have to wear. He, for his part, was an idiot and almost certainly guilty. At least, that’s what we found over the course of an hour. Who knows what the rest of the case was like?
We spent the next few hours walking around the areas near the court, many of which contained pubs and office buildings unique to the legal community, just as Dickens portrayed it Bleak House. The idea of such a self contained community is fairly intriguing, but I can’t help but feel like lawyers should be out in the world, understanding the ways and means of it, so that, if a client should run afoul of the law, his advocate might better understand the circumstances surrounding his crime. Just a though.
Lunch and shopping in Covent Garden were nice, if unremarkable, though I had a strong sense of Déjà vu, which freaked me out a little bit. A few of us headed to Primarkt, a famed London establishment, which, unlike the other famed London stores, wasn’t designed for Kate Moss in terms of both style and price.
I wish I could describe for you what it was like. The store itself is large, two floors and about ¼ of a block long. There were scores of people inside, like a stadium, only everyone is looking at clothing on racks and moving around and trying to get past each other, instead of all wanting to sit and watch the game.
The atmosphere, because of the dirt-cheap prices, was akin to the day after thanksgiving sales, or the Mall of America on Christmas eve. It was that crazy, on a normal Friday. It took us nearly an hour to successfully round up four of us, after two of us had already finished and found each other.
It was a successful trip, however, as I emerged from the scrum holding a very nice black, green, and grey scarf. It’s a nearly perfect match for my Kühl jacket and will go splendidly with my Pea Coat. And if it doesn’t, well, it was two pounds, which makes it less than a beer; I’ll survive the loss. And with the exchange rate the way it is, well, all the better. 1.57 today and falling. At this rate, it won’t be so damned expensive to buy, well, anything in Chelsea, and life will be much better in SW3 6NA.
Another quiet evening punctuated by Dr. Who, and Beautiful People (which I’m growing to dislike more and more every time I see it). Fortunately, I skipped out on that to work on my BA and to send an update to Prof. Wilkinson. I’m fairly pleased with my progress, so I hope he will be too.
There is a group headed to Highgate tomorrow, but I don’t think I’ll make it. A) Because I have no idea when they are leaving, and B) because I desperately need to get some work done. I don’t know why we have a 5-page paper due Monday, but we do. Maybe I’ll just turn this blog in, its nearly the right length, and about as coherent as any lit. analysis I do on Dickens is likely to be!
Friday, October 24, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Day 38
To recap the 12 missed days: I wrote a paper I was underprepared to write. That accounts for about a week. I also spent substantial time looking for which grad programs I would apply to and considering if I really wanted to take the LSAT while I was here.
The decision not to go to law school next year was really less difficult than I’d thought. It sort of came down to the realization that taking a year off could really help me and it wouldn’t hurt me the same way a year off going into a Ph.D might. That it also meant I didn’t have to add LSAT prep to my already packed schedule was really just the icing on the cake.
As a general rule, I like it here. I don’t really feel all that foreign, the exchange rate has been steadily improving, and London is really a dynamic city. I need to go out more. I’ve spent far too much time in my dorm room and I’m already ruing the things I’m going to run out of time to see. The temptation to stay in and work (of which the former happens and the latter rarely does) is strong, only made worse that it’s still incredibly expensive to do much of anything. Add to that the fact that it can be difficult to find a group of people to do something and my aversion to doing things alone, and you’ve got a lot of nights that it just feels easier to camp out than go out.
I may just suck it up and fly to Dublin on my own. I know people are going, but they seem to either be going for 7th week, when I’ve already got plans, or aren’t looking to add another person to their plans. Its not ideal, but I really want to go, and if that means alone, so be it. We’ll see if I decide to actually go, or just find something around London to do. If I had something specific to see, I’d be more willing to go, but for now it’s the draw of the city itself.
Last night we went out to dinner at an Indian restaurant before going to see Chicago. 25 people on the Tube during rush hour is unpleasant for my border collie instincts. I think it’s the legacy of the boychoir mentality of taking care of each other on tour, but I’m constantly trying to make sure everyone stays together, has tickets, etc.
Dinner was good, but spicy. I like Indian food fine, but I feel like a lot of it tastes the same: citrusy and hot. Not that it is a bad combo, but I tire of it. Nevertheless, it was free and who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?
The show itself was dispointing. It lacked the energy and color that one usually associates with a Fosse show. The singers were ok, but it was clear that they were primarily dancers. The dancing was cool and really fun to watch, I felt like the guys outshone the gals in terms of precision and flow, but it was all quite good.
The draw of the show, or this iteration of it, is how sexy it is. The posters all sell the show as burlesque with a plot. Fine, Fosse was raised in a strip club and a lot of his heroines are working girls of one kind or another, so that works fine with his style. What didn’t work was the fact that the show seemed to substitute scantily clad for anything substantive. The women were all in black underwear, tights, and usually something mesh as a top. The men were in mesh tops and tight black pants. I briefly wondered where one might acquire a shirt like that before remembering that I’m prohibited from such shirts under the 1994 Assault Weapons Ban.
Its not that the aesthetic wasn’t apparent, but if I’m going for sexy, I’ll wander down King’s Road and its plethora of ridiculously upscale lingerie shops. As is, this is musical theater: Sing and Dance first, skin second. They inverted the two and it lost a lot of what it was supposed to be.
Class today was a little better, we stuck closer to the text and that made discussion possible. We been a little to far out of people’s comfort zone to have a conversation that lasted for more than about 4 comments previously. Class was also shorter, which was a huge blessing, as I was inexplicably exhausted for most of the day. However, our freedom came at a price: the afternoon was for field trips.
Had I not been so tired, I’m sure it would have been better, and this was FAR better than the Immigration museum which probably deserved its own post. I’ll just sum it up this way: Made by 10 year olds, for 10 year olds, with excessively overbearing docents.
Today’s Victorian houses were much more interesting. The first was a very well preserved middle class house owned by Linley Sambourne. Linley was a political cartoonist for Punch, an illustrator of children’s book, photographer, and amateur pornographer, all of which played a roll in the décor of his house.
It was very interesting to see things in situ one usually sees in museums and I much liked the Victorian style of packing the walls with as many pictures as they can hold. I suspect I’m biased, since if I acquire one more poster, I think I’ll have a full wall’s worth. It helped to clarify, too, the idea of men’s and women’s spheres and how they could be thought of as totally divergent. When one rarely occupies the same space as one’s spouse, it makes sense that that person might develop a strange relationship with the opposite gender.
The second house we saw was that of Lord Leighton, the painter and president of the Royal Academy. His house was much bigger and more grandly decorated, but Spartan in its furnishings. They sold them all after he died and the trust has had trouble getting some of them back. I was glad not to see too many more things, for I was tired and while the first Victorian chair is interesting, the law of diminishing returns quickly comes into play and the second and third get less interesting quite quickly.
A hasty dinner of pizza (about all I’ve got left after someone deigned to throw out a bunch of food from our fridge, including the burger I was going to cook) followed as soon as I got home. The hour nap left me dazed when I woke up, but once I regained my bearings, I felt better.
The evening ended with a Dr. Who mini-marathon, broke up by a Mock The Week episode, in the lounge. I like the show a lot, and I can see why it has developed such a strong following, but I’m no die hard yet. Perhaps once we finish season three, I’ll understand it better.
Still, it was nice to do things with other people, even if I’d intended to watch the Champions League matches.
Not sure what this weekend will hold, but I’ve got another paper due Monday, so that will undoubtedly take a bit of time to complete.
The decision not to go to law school next year was really less difficult than I’d thought. It sort of came down to the realization that taking a year off could really help me and it wouldn’t hurt me the same way a year off going into a Ph.D might. That it also meant I didn’t have to add LSAT prep to my already packed schedule was really just the icing on the cake.
As a general rule, I like it here. I don’t really feel all that foreign, the exchange rate has been steadily improving, and London is really a dynamic city. I need to go out more. I’ve spent far too much time in my dorm room and I’m already ruing the things I’m going to run out of time to see. The temptation to stay in and work (of which the former happens and the latter rarely does) is strong, only made worse that it’s still incredibly expensive to do much of anything. Add to that the fact that it can be difficult to find a group of people to do something and my aversion to doing things alone, and you’ve got a lot of nights that it just feels easier to camp out than go out.
I may just suck it up and fly to Dublin on my own. I know people are going, but they seem to either be going for 7th week, when I’ve already got plans, or aren’t looking to add another person to their plans. Its not ideal, but I really want to go, and if that means alone, so be it. We’ll see if I decide to actually go, or just find something around London to do. If I had something specific to see, I’d be more willing to go, but for now it’s the draw of the city itself.
Last night we went out to dinner at an Indian restaurant before going to see Chicago. 25 people on the Tube during rush hour is unpleasant for my border collie instincts. I think it’s the legacy of the boychoir mentality of taking care of each other on tour, but I’m constantly trying to make sure everyone stays together, has tickets, etc.
Dinner was good, but spicy. I like Indian food fine, but I feel like a lot of it tastes the same: citrusy and hot. Not that it is a bad combo, but I tire of it. Nevertheless, it was free and who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?
The show itself was dispointing. It lacked the energy and color that one usually associates with a Fosse show. The singers were ok, but it was clear that they were primarily dancers. The dancing was cool and really fun to watch, I felt like the guys outshone the gals in terms of precision and flow, but it was all quite good.
The draw of the show, or this iteration of it, is how sexy it is. The posters all sell the show as burlesque with a plot. Fine, Fosse was raised in a strip club and a lot of his heroines are working girls of one kind or another, so that works fine with his style. What didn’t work was the fact that the show seemed to substitute scantily clad for anything substantive. The women were all in black underwear, tights, and usually something mesh as a top. The men were in mesh tops and tight black pants. I briefly wondered where one might acquire a shirt like that before remembering that I’m prohibited from such shirts under the 1994 Assault Weapons Ban.
Its not that the aesthetic wasn’t apparent, but if I’m going for sexy, I’ll wander down King’s Road and its plethora of ridiculously upscale lingerie shops. As is, this is musical theater: Sing and Dance first, skin second. They inverted the two and it lost a lot of what it was supposed to be.
Class today was a little better, we stuck closer to the text and that made discussion possible. We been a little to far out of people’s comfort zone to have a conversation that lasted for more than about 4 comments previously. Class was also shorter, which was a huge blessing, as I was inexplicably exhausted for most of the day. However, our freedom came at a price: the afternoon was for field trips.
Had I not been so tired, I’m sure it would have been better, and this was FAR better than the Immigration museum which probably deserved its own post. I’ll just sum it up this way: Made by 10 year olds, for 10 year olds, with excessively overbearing docents.
Today’s Victorian houses were much more interesting. The first was a very well preserved middle class house owned by Linley Sambourne. Linley was a political cartoonist for Punch, an illustrator of children’s book, photographer, and amateur pornographer, all of which played a roll in the décor of his house.
It was very interesting to see things in situ one usually sees in museums and I much liked the Victorian style of packing the walls with as many pictures as they can hold. I suspect I’m biased, since if I acquire one more poster, I think I’ll have a full wall’s worth. It helped to clarify, too, the idea of men’s and women’s spheres and how they could be thought of as totally divergent. When one rarely occupies the same space as one’s spouse, it makes sense that that person might develop a strange relationship with the opposite gender.
The second house we saw was that of Lord Leighton, the painter and president of the Royal Academy. His house was much bigger and more grandly decorated, but Spartan in its furnishings. They sold them all after he died and the trust has had trouble getting some of them back. I was glad not to see too many more things, for I was tired and while the first Victorian chair is interesting, the law of diminishing returns quickly comes into play and the second and third get less interesting quite quickly.
A hasty dinner of pizza (about all I’ve got left after someone deigned to throw out a bunch of food from our fridge, including the burger I was going to cook) followed as soon as I got home. The hour nap left me dazed when I woke up, but once I regained my bearings, I felt better.
The evening ended with a Dr. Who mini-marathon, broke up by a Mock The Week episode, in the lounge. I like the show a lot, and I can see why it has developed such a strong following, but I’m no die hard yet. Perhaps once we finish season three, I’ll understand it better.
Still, it was nice to do things with other people, even if I’d intended to watch the Champions League matches.
Not sure what this weekend will hold, but I’ve got another paper due Monday, so that will undoubtedly take a bit of time to complete.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Days 15 and 16: Double Post
Double Post:
I decided not to blog about Thursday because, well, not much happened. So we’ll roll that one into yesterdays, call it a double, and move on.
Thursday was the first day of the 4th class we’re taking here, the one run by IES staff. London as a Multicultural city, or something of that nature. At first it seemed like it would be right up my alley: small discussions of what makes a nation, how is a nation defined etc. but it really ended up being too touchy-feely*. A lot of “self reflection” and “how does a nation make you feel” and “what do YOU think defines a nation”**, it just ended up being a little empty. Hopefully we were laying the foundation for more to come, but the prof. kept stressing how these techniques were the latest and greatest, so this may be what class is like for the rest of our time.
*Tom, during the break: If this class gets anymore touchy-feely, I’m going to have to take out a restraining order.
**I’ve got no problem with talking about what factors define a nation, as long as your starting point is language. It HAS to start with a common language. That wasn’t given as the base, we were one of two groups that brought it up, so it seems like we basically missed the point.
Katie, Ryan, and I stopped by Tesco on the way home, running into several people on the way. Once back at the dorm, my afternoon was full of laundry, reading and a bit of writing. The evening provided my introduction to both Nevermind the Buzzcocks and Blackadder, both of which are excellent shows.
Double post Part Deux!
Yesterday was the wonderful day off we get every week, and I needed it. Perpetual talk of crisis can be sort of exhausting, and the gloom of a 10 page paper due next week was dampening the mood around the dorm.
Sleeping in was great, and a welcome change from our earlish mornings when we have class. The first great surprise of the morning was that The Mountain Goats had released a new EP, pay what you want. Tossing them a couple bucks, I downloaded the album and have been more than pleased with it*. I really like the new style they’ve been going for, and I hope their next full album is more to this style than their previous albums were.
*The only downside is that telling people “Dude, you’ve got to listen to Satanic Messiah” makes me sound like a metalhead. Too bad this is folk-inspired indie, heavily attached to the piano.
6 or so of us spent the early afternoon thrifting around Chelsea. Now, that sounds like a great plan, but we all soon realized that “thrifting” in Chelsea means paying 80 pounds for a suit instead of 130. It’s a lot like thrifitng in Belmont in that respect, everything is cheaper, but nothing is cheap.
Disapointed with that attempt, we headed down to a food market in The City. Borough Market had everything one could ever want, and it was all fresh. There were fruit and vegetable sellers, meat shops, hand made pasta vendors, candy men, cheese shops, everything one could ever need! All of us found a few things to call dinner. I spent around 5 pounds and got an apple, two buns, a glass of cold cider, a bag to carry stuff in, a bottle of strawberry and pear hard cider, and a venison burger.
We made it home without much trouble and I set to making dinner. One of the non-Chicago people who uses our kitchen isn’t very good at cleaning up after himself, so I had to clean out the skillet before I used it, used it, and then had to clean it out again. Not a big deal, just annoying. The burger proved to be worth the wait; I’d forgotten how good venison is. Next time, however, I’m getting the boar burger.
We finished season 4 of Blackadder last night, and I’ve got to say, it was as good a show about war as I’ve ever seen. It’s a lot like a British version of M*A*S*H set in world war 1 in that they mix humor and tension very very well. The cast is stocked, Stephen Frye, Rowan Atkinson, and Hugh Laurie are all tremendous in their various parts. It still unsettles me how good Hugh Laurie’s American accent is. He’s British in Blackadder, so that of course is natural for him, but it just highlights how convincing he is in House.
I sat down to work at about midnight and banged out close to three pages, giving me four to work from today. I’m still a bit uncertain if I’ll have enough material, but I think I will. If not, 3 pages of block quotes will almost certainly bring me up to the limit!
I decided not to blog about Thursday because, well, not much happened. So we’ll roll that one into yesterdays, call it a double, and move on.
Thursday was the first day of the 4th class we’re taking here, the one run by IES staff. London as a Multicultural city, or something of that nature. At first it seemed like it would be right up my alley: small discussions of what makes a nation, how is a nation defined etc. but it really ended up being too touchy-feely*. A lot of “self reflection” and “how does a nation make you feel” and “what do YOU think defines a nation”**, it just ended up being a little empty. Hopefully we were laying the foundation for more to come, but the prof. kept stressing how these techniques were the latest and greatest, so this may be what class is like for the rest of our time.
*Tom, during the break: If this class gets anymore touchy-feely, I’m going to have to take out a restraining order.
**I’ve got no problem with talking about what factors define a nation, as long as your starting point is language. It HAS to start with a common language. That wasn’t given as the base, we were one of two groups that brought it up, so it seems like we basically missed the point.
Katie, Ryan, and I stopped by Tesco on the way home, running into several people on the way. Once back at the dorm, my afternoon was full of laundry, reading and a bit of writing. The evening provided my introduction to both Nevermind the Buzzcocks and Blackadder, both of which are excellent shows.
Double post Part Deux!
Yesterday was the wonderful day off we get every week, and I needed it. Perpetual talk of crisis can be sort of exhausting, and the gloom of a 10 page paper due next week was dampening the mood around the dorm.
Sleeping in was great, and a welcome change from our earlish mornings when we have class. The first great surprise of the morning was that The Mountain Goats had released a new EP, pay what you want. Tossing them a couple bucks, I downloaded the album and have been more than pleased with it*. I really like the new style they’ve been going for, and I hope their next full album is more to this style than their previous albums were.
*The only downside is that telling people “Dude, you’ve got to listen to Satanic Messiah” makes me sound like a metalhead. Too bad this is folk-inspired indie, heavily attached to the piano.
6 or so of us spent the early afternoon thrifting around Chelsea. Now, that sounds like a great plan, but we all soon realized that “thrifting” in Chelsea means paying 80 pounds for a suit instead of 130. It’s a lot like thrifitng in Belmont in that respect, everything is cheaper, but nothing is cheap.
Disapointed with that attempt, we headed down to a food market in The City. Borough Market had everything one could ever want, and it was all fresh. There were fruit and vegetable sellers, meat shops, hand made pasta vendors, candy men, cheese shops, everything one could ever need! All of us found a few things to call dinner. I spent around 5 pounds and got an apple, two buns, a glass of cold cider, a bag to carry stuff in, a bottle of strawberry and pear hard cider, and a venison burger.
We made it home without much trouble and I set to making dinner. One of the non-Chicago people who uses our kitchen isn’t very good at cleaning up after himself, so I had to clean out the skillet before I used it, used it, and then had to clean it out again. Not a big deal, just annoying. The burger proved to be worth the wait; I’d forgotten how good venison is. Next time, however, I’m getting the boar burger.
We finished season 4 of Blackadder last night, and I’ve got to say, it was as good a show about war as I’ve ever seen. It’s a lot like a British version of M*A*S*H set in world war 1 in that they mix humor and tension very very well. The cast is stocked, Stephen Frye, Rowan Atkinson, and Hugh Laurie are all tremendous in their various parts. It still unsettles me how good Hugh Laurie’s American accent is. He’s British in Blackadder, so that of course is natural for him, but it just highlights how convincing he is in House.
I sat down to work at about midnight and banged out close to three pages, giving me four to work from today. I’m still a bit uncertain if I’ll have enough material, but I think I will. If not, 3 pages of block quotes will almost certainly bring me up to the limit!
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Day 14: My friends, I have waisted your time once again, my friends
The Political Scientist in me is glad I was able to see the debate last night, but the realist in me knows so little was said that sleep would have been better. Obama killed McCain in pretty much every discernable way and yet neither candidate distinguished themselves from the other. Tie goes to the leader, Obama, and McCain will now be forced to play an even worse game of catch-up.
I was late to class today, though it was hardly my fault. Poor communication between Ryan and I meant that we were ready to shower at about the same time, which set me back a few minutes. Given all the places to lose time, 2 min late isn’t worth sweating over, especially since no attendance is taken and Murin has admitted he isn’t learning names.
The second half of class was interesting today, which made a nice shift from the rest of the week. Not that the discussion of dragons is scintillating, but he actually let us talk and we established a few interesting things by our observations from the text. In case it isn’t clear, my expectations for Prof. Murin are “Sarah Palin low”.
Lunch was at a Fish and Chips place in Bloomsbury, so between I feel like I’ve now hit all the necessary British foods: Ale, Fish and Chips, Meat Pie, and various mediocre sandwiches from Tesco. The Fish and Chips were good and not ungodly expensive, but probably not so good that it will become a regular place.*
*So far, we have two “regular” places. Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese for its atmosphere and cheap pints, and Hummus Bros. for its proximity to the IES center and 50p Lattes. Yeah, they may only be 8oz, but for 50p, it’s the best deal I’ve found on anything here.
For the second time since I've been here, I stumbled upon a friend studying here. Emily Kaiser was headed the opposite way on the escalator in Holburn station. For a city so large, it seems awfully small to me!
Most of the rest of the afternoon and evening was spent in the room, marginally working, mostly trying not to fall asleep. Ryan and I found the greatest show on TV called Mock the Week, which I am totally enamored with right now. It is as funny as SNL in its heyday and twice as clever.
Tomorrow begins the random IES class on London and its multiethnicity. My expectations are low, but I’m in the mood to be pleasantly surprised, so we shall see which impulse is the correct one tomorrow!
I was late to class today, though it was hardly my fault. Poor communication between Ryan and I meant that we were ready to shower at about the same time, which set me back a few minutes. Given all the places to lose time, 2 min late isn’t worth sweating over, especially since no attendance is taken and Murin has admitted he isn’t learning names.
The second half of class was interesting today, which made a nice shift from the rest of the week. Not that the discussion of dragons is scintillating, but he actually let us talk and we established a few interesting things by our observations from the text. In case it isn’t clear, my expectations for Prof. Murin are “Sarah Palin low”.
Lunch was at a Fish and Chips place in Bloomsbury, so between I feel like I’ve now hit all the necessary British foods: Ale, Fish and Chips, Meat Pie, and various mediocre sandwiches from Tesco. The Fish and Chips were good and not ungodly expensive, but probably not so good that it will become a regular place.*
*So far, we have two “regular” places. Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese for its atmosphere and cheap pints, and Hummus Bros. for its proximity to the IES center and 50p Lattes. Yeah, they may only be 8oz, but for 50p, it’s the best deal I’ve found on anything here.
For the second time since I've been here, I stumbled upon a friend studying here. Emily Kaiser was headed the opposite way on the escalator in Holburn station. For a city so large, it seems awfully small to me!
Most of the rest of the afternoon and evening was spent in the room, marginally working, mostly trying not to fall asleep. Ryan and I found the greatest show on TV called Mock the Week, which I am totally enamored with right now. It is as funny as SNL in its heyday and twice as clever.
Tomorrow begins the random IES class on London and its multiethnicity. My expectations are low, but I’m in the mood to be pleasantly surprised, so we shall see which impulse is the correct one tomorrow!
Backblogs: Friday in Wales
Sleeping in a room with 5 other guys, all of whom want to get up at different times, led to a massive glut of MIDI tones Friday morning. Despite the short night, we all clamored out of the bedroom into the nicest bathrooms of anywhere we’ve been so far, including the IES center.
Packed and ready, we met our bus about two blocks from the hostel and headed for the Museum of Welsh Life. Museum is really the wrong word for it, its more like a historical village with various buildings set up the way they would have been in various times in Welsh history. Reasonably interesting, but it grew old fast, and we had more than enough time to kill.
The grounds were gorgeous and the day was nice, which made everything better, even if the castle was so poorly misnamed we were looking for it only to find out we were in the dead center of it. We hit a Tesco SUPERSTORE on the way out of Cardiff to grab lunch we could eat on the way. It was sort of a cross between Sam’s Club (Size of store and prices) and a gas station convenience store (type of things sold). Everyone piled back in the bus and we embarked on the first of our long bus journeys.
Hours later, we arrived at Big Pit Mine, which was an active mine until the 1980s but is now the National Coal Museum. We suited up, miners’ hats and all, and headed down 300 feet into the dark, cold, maw of the earth. Our guide was a former miner who had worked in Big Pit, which made for a really cool experience. Ryan and I bore the worst of the tour, he worse than I, since the average height of the passage ways was, without hyperbole, 5’6’’ at the very highest. Both of us spent much of the trip hunched over trying to follow the feet of the people in front of us.
The coal industry has never been known as “child friendly” but the Brits had it much worse than the US kids did, hence why most of the child protection laws came from the UK. At one point, the guide showed us the place the youngest kids would work. Kids as young as 5-6 were assigned to open a large door so that carts could be passed through. However, if the kids were unable to afford a light (candles at the time), they were simply tied to the door and told to listen for knocks. To demonstrate, he had us all turn off our lamps to see what the kids would have seen for 16-18 hours a day:
Nothing
I’ve never been in a place so dark in my life. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my eyes, I stretched out my arm and drew it towards me to see at what distance I could finally make out my own hand and I hit myself in the nose. No lies.
We ended the tour on the very coal face itself, which afforded basically no room to stand, or really even to do much of anything but crouch. The guide said workers basically didn’t move for hours on end while working the face, which means doing EVERYTHING there. Really unpleasant. Around the time he started talking about mining disasters I mentally added Coal Miner to my List of Things I Won’t Do, Even If I Can’t Get Into Grad School.
Once we reemerged and remembered what sunlight was like, we packed back into the bus and headed for Pembrokeshire on the Welsh Coast.
Sometime along the drive, it began to rain softly, which stayed with us basically until we got back to London. Nevertheless, I spent the hours staring out the window at the lush countryside. It reminded me of New Zealand with its rolling hills, craggy rocks, and stone fencings cutting scars across the distant planes. Sheep were everywhere, which provided a great fallback in case whatever I was reading became less interesting than the very existence of sheep. This happened frequently.
The hostel in Pembrokeshire was…not as nice as Cardiff. Serviceable, and they provided three meals, but I would have traded for a working shower and a bed that didn’t make me want to sleep on the floor. It was stashed away in the corner of a small town on the very edge of Wales, so a few of us decided to explore a bit after dinner.
We found The Galleon, the most authentic pub I’ve been to yet. Brains is the local fare, so we all sat down with a pint of it and watched the end of a rugby match. Close to the end of the game this conversation too place
Local Woman: Where are you from?
Tom: We’re from the US, but we’re studying in London
LW: How long will you be here?
Tom: In Wales? Till Sunday, but we leave here tomorrow.
LW: Well! You’d all better get drinking then!
I’ve been told that she made an attempt to get his phone number after I left, but I can’t prove it. With Hey Jude! blaring on the jukebox, a few of us decided to walk back along the beach in the dark. I love dark beaches, when you can barely see a thing and only the sound of the sea pouring onto shore tells you where you are. In a town with very few lights and no latent light pollution, it was really something.
We joined the group for a long game of Catchphrase, followed by late night British TV. I had fully intended to head to bed around 12, but got waylaid by several conversations with various people on the trip, which I don’t mind one bit.
However, the last two hours of my inadvertent delay were spent debating the pros and cons of US sex offender laws compared to comparable laws in the UK with three drunk Welsh youth workers. I’m not going to say I regret it, because it was fun, it was a cultural experience, and, in its absurdity, it was hilarious. However, it was another short night in a run of them. Thank goodness for being able to sleep on the Bus!
Packed and ready, we met our bus about two blocks from the hostel and headed for the Museum of Welsh Life. Museum is really the wrong word for it, its more like a historical village with various buildings set up the way they would have been in various times in Welsh history. Reasonably interesting, but it grew old fast, and we had more than enough time to kill.
The grounds were gorgeous and the day was nice, which made everything better, even if the castle was so poorly misnamed we were looking for it only to find out we were in the dead center of it. We hit a Tesco SUPERSTORE on the way out of Cardiff to grab lunch we could eat on the way. It was sort of a cross between Sam’s Club (Size of store and prices) and a gas station convenience store (type of things sold). Everyone piled back in the bus and we embarked on the first of our long bus journeys.
Hours later, we arrived at Big Pit Mine, which was an active mine until the 1980s but is now the National Coal Museum. We suited up, miners’ hats and all, and headed down 300 feet into the dark, cold, maw of the earth. Our guide was a former miner who had worked in Big Pit, which made for a really cool experience. Ryan and I bore the worst of the tour, he worse than I, since the average height of the passage ways was, without hyperbole, 5’6’’ at the very highest. Both of us spent much of the trip hunched over trying to follow the feet of the people in front of us.
The coal industry has never been known as “child friendly” but the Brits had it much worse than the US kids did, hence why most of the child protection laws came from the UK. At one point, the guide showed us the place the youngest kids would work. Kids as young as 5-6 were assigned to open a large door so that carts could be passed through. However, if the kids were unable to afford a light (candles at the time), they were simply tied to the door and told to listen for knocks. To demonstrate, he had us all turn off our lamps to see what the kids would have seen for 16-18 hours a day:
Nothing
I’ve never been in a place so dark in my life. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my eyes, I stretched out my arm and drew it towards me to see at what distance I could finally make out my own hand and I hit myself in the nose. No lies.
We ended the tour on the very coal face itself, which afforded basically no room to stand, or really even to do much of anything but crouch. The guide said workers basically didn’t move for hours on end while working the face, which means doing EVERYTHING there. Really unpleasant. Around the time he started talking about mining disasters I mentally added Coal Miner to my List of Things I Won’t Do, Even If I Can’t Get Into Grad School.
Once we reemerged and remembered what sunlight was like, we packed back into the bus and headed for Pembrokeshire on the Welsh Coast.
Sometime along the drive, it began to rain softly, which stayed with us basically until we got back to London. Nevertheless, I spent the hours staring out the window at the lush countryside. It reminded me of New Zealand with its rolling hills, craggy rocks, and stone fencings cutting scars across the distant planes. Sheep were everywhere, which provided a great fallback in case whatever I was reading became less interesting than the very existence of sheep. This happened frequently.
The hostel in Pembrokeshire was…not as nice as Cardiff. Serviceable, and they provided three meals, but I would have traded for a working shower and a bed that didn’t make me want to sleep on the floor. It was stashed away in the corner of a small town on the very edge of Wales, so a few of us decided to explore a bit after dinner.
We found The Galleon, the most authentic pub I’ve been to yet. Brains is the local fare, so we all sat down with a pint of it and watched the end of a rugby match. Close to the end of the game this conversation too place
Local Woman: Where are you from?
Tom: We’re from the US, but we’re studying in London
LW: How long will you be here?
Tom: In Wales? Till Sunday, but we leave here tomorrow.
LW: Well! You’d all better get drinking then!
I’ve been told that she made an attempt to get his phone number after I left, but I can’t prove it. With Hey Jude! blaring on the jukebox, a few of us decided to walk back along the beach in the dark. I love dark beaches, when you can barely see a thing and only the sound of the sea pouring onto shore tells you where you are. In a town with very few lights and no latent light pollution, it was really something.
We joined the group for a long game of Catchphrase, followed by late night British TV. I had fully intended to head to bed around 12, but got waylaid by several conversations with various people on the trip, which I don’t mind one bit.
However, the last two hours of my inadvertent delay were spent debating the pros and cons of US sex offender laws compared to comparable laws in the UK with three drunk Welsh youth workers. I’m not going to say I regret it, because it was fun, it was a cultural experience, and, in its absurdity, it was hilarious. However, it was another short night in a run of them. Thank goodness for being able to sleep on the Bus!
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Day 13: Black Comedy Gold
Another short night made it hard to get up this morning, but once I actually gained coherency (read: once I made it to the Tube) I wasn’t all that tired. I thought for sure I’d be groggy given the difficulty I had waking, but I rebounded nicely. Today was a day of Tube delays, and several of us were nearly late due to one, but it was nothing more than a scare, as we all made it with moments to spare.
Class is as it ever was, the chances of me being an English major are now lower than my chances of being a coal miner. I’m really hoping tomorrow is going to be useful, otherwise I’m stuck pulling a 10 page paper out of thin air, since we haven’t even touched my topic yet. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d pulled a paper of length out of nothing, but it’s tiring, and Lit. Crit. isn’t my second nature the way poli sci is.
Much of the class went to office hours after class, but I headed home to bang out my proposal, since I already had a good idea of what to write and how I wanted to lay it out. Apparently, when I turn mine in tomorrow, I’ll be one of the only ones. Nice to know after a long layoff, I’ve still got the writing knack (I think, we’ll see what his comments are). It took me a while to get back into the groove, but once I did, things moved nicely enough. I’ll need better focus to bang out 10 pages in the time frame it will need to be done, but I’ve done worse.
Thankfully, I was able to finish the proposal in time for our pizza dinner before the show. Pizza hit the spot, and there was just about enough for everyone. The Veggie didn’t do so well, but it never does; its just one of the rules of massive pizza orders. I was ready to go even before dinner, so the extra time to kill meant I watched trashy British TV like The Weakest Link and Eggheads*
*Think Beat the Geeks, but with less specific categories
I had a great conversation with our RA on the way to the Tube about the hardships of group dynamics. I realized that I really do have a ton of experience with the issues she was talking about (being too big a group to do activities all together, budgets) from being in Boychoir and the May House pres, so it was nice to have real advice to give. She’ll be a great asset for looking over grad stuff and getting last minute advice, so I’m glad to be on good terms with her.
The play was incredible, as I’ve said other places: Chekhov + Tom Stoppard + the peerless Kenneth Brannagh makes for an unreal experience. Black comedies are SO difficult to do well, but this cast was top shelf and it was a wonderful experience all around.
A few of us decided to head to out and grab something to eat and drink. We ended up at a pub called The Garrick Arms in Leicester Square, very close to the theater, which didn’t suit the people who wanted food. Four of us stayed to order our pints while they went in search of eats, but came back with none. Rather than just spend the rest of my evening in my room, I decided to look for food with them for a while. We went to Covent Garden and around the side streets between Covent and Leicester before settling on the nicest Haagen-Daz I’ve ever seen. It was a very pleasant time out with a smaller group than usual and not all that expensive when all was accounted for.
The tube ride back took longer than expected, much like the morning, but as we saw on a posted sign in the station, this was due to someone under a train further down the line. We were as surprised that they would actually tell us that someone was dead under a train as we were by the fact that it happened. You couldn’t pry that info out of someone on the EL, the Tube people figure you have a right to know, I guess.
I’m going to make it through as much of the debate as my computer will take. The random stops and starts will make things tiring. So, I’ve got my doubt as to how much of it I’ll actually see.
Class is as it ever was, the chances of me being an English major are now lower than my chances of being a coal miner. I’m really hoping tomorrow is going to be useful, otherwise I’m stuck pulling a 10 page paper out of thin air, since we haven’t even touched my topic yet. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d pulled a paper of length out of nothing, but it’s tiring, and Lit. Crit. isn’t my second nature the way poli sci is.
Much of the class went to office hours after class, but I headed home to bang out my proposal, since I already had a good idea of what to write and how I wanted to lay it out. Apparently, when I turn mine in tomorrow, I’ll be one of the only ones. Nice to know after a long layoff, I’ve still got the writing knack (I think, we’ll see what his comments are). It took me a while to get back into the groove, but once I did, things moved nicely enough. I’ll need better focus to bang out 10 pages in the time frame it will need to be done, but I’ve done worse.
Thankfully, I was able to finish the proposal in time for our pizza dinner before the show. Pizza hit the spot, and there was just about enough for everyone. The Veggie didn’t do so well, but it never does; its just one of the rules of massive pizza orders. I was ready to go even before dinner, so the extra time to kill meant I watched trashy British TV like The Weakest Link and Eggheads*
*Think Beat the Geeks, but with less specific categories
I had a great conversation with our RA on the way to the Tube about the hardships of group dynamics. I realized that I really do have a ton of experience with the issues she was talking about (being too big a group to do activities all together, budgets) from being in Boychoir and the May House pres, so it was nice to have real advice to give. She’ll be a great asset for looking over grad stuff and getting last minute advice, so I’m glad to be on good terms with her.
The play was incredible, as I’ve said other places: Chekhov + Tom Stoppard + the peerless Kenneth Brannagh makes for an unreal experience. Black comedies are SO difficult to do well, but this cast was top shelf and it was a wonderful experience all around.
A few of us decided to head to out and grab something to eat and drink. We ended up at a pub called The Garrick Arms in Leicester Square, very close to the theater, which didn’t suit the people who wanted food. Four of us stayed to order our pints while they went in search of eats, but came back with none. Rather than just spend the rest of my evening in my room, I decided to look for food with them for a while. We went to Covent Garden and around the side streets between Covent and Leicester before settling on the nicest Haagen-Daz I’ve ever seen. It was a very pleasant time out with a smaller group than usual and not all that expensive when all was accounted for.
The tube ride back took longer than expected, much like the morning, but as we saw on a posted sign in the station, this was due to someone under a train further down the line. We were as surprised that they would actually tell us that someone was dead under a train as we were by the fact that it happened. You couldn’t pry that info out of someone on the EL, the Tube people figure you have a right to know, I guess.
I’m going to make it through as much of the debate as my computer will take. The random stops and starts will make things tiring. So, I’ve got my doubt as to how much of it I’ll actually see.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Day 12: Back to the Grind
Mondays after long weekends seem to be a little more low-key than a standard Monday, and today was no exception.
Having class in the afternoon meant sleeping in, and I took full advantage of the extra time. Still, I felt like I had left plenty of time to get to the Tube station, renew my Oyster card, and make it class in more than enough time.
The problem was, I couldn’t just add money to the card since I was switching from a weekly to a monthly pass. I had to fill out a whole new form to protect the card in case of loss, good idea in theory, but a rather large time sink.
Nevertheless, I made it with about two minutes to spare, which wasn’t enough to grab coffee on the way, but enough to not get a dirty look from prof. Murin before class, which is far more important.
I don’t think I’ve ever had a class feel so useless. Perhaps it was because I was watching the markets free fall as we were discussing the fact that the Vikings fought on BOTH sides of battle for about 25 min. (They were mercenaries, they fought for whoever paid them, it isn’t a hard concept). It could be because we spent over an hour looking at the middle English text for one of the poems, which exactly 1 person in the class understood (the prof), or maybe it was because I was still tired from the dead sprint between Holburn Station and the IES center, but it all seemed so irrelevant.
After class the decision was made to head back to Ye Old Cheshire Cheese for a quick pint. I was distracted, however, by the fruit stand by the Tube stop. A pound of GOOD strawberries and two apples for under two pounds is a great deal by any standard, so I was quite pleased.
However, I ended up separated from the group headed to the pub, and despite my best efforts, couldn’t connect with them. I’m still not sure how I missed them, but no matter, I wasn’t dying for a pint and it saved me a couple pounds. My knees and ankles were getting to me, so rather than hike back up to Holburn, I decided to try and find the closest tube stop. I managed to find Blackfriars, and the correct line, and headed home to Chelsea.
There was something very satisfying about sitting on the Tube reading one of London’s many free newspapers. I felt as thought I had conquered the city by not getting completely lost in an unfamiliar place. I hopped off in Chelsea and started home.
However, I still needed dinner, and decided to stop off at a different Tesco than usual, one which took me a bit out of the way*. It was busy, but I scooted through quickly and proceeded onward, albeit on a different route than usual.
*On the way, I was handed a brochure for a Chinese clinic specializing in the use of acupuncture for the treatment of, among other things, impotency. I think the strippers of Cardiff and this nice Chinese girl need to meet and decide if my issue is too much testosterone or way too little. I’m getting mixed messages here.
It was a very nice change to cruise through a different set of streets, even if I was only a block or two away from my normal path, and it gave me a different view of Chelsea. I saw at least two Bentleys on my walk, which either means they are cheap here or that Chelsea is even richer than I thought. I’m guessing it’s the latter not the former.
The evening has been quiet, marked by very little. I did receive my first grad school recruitment letter, and, in a marked shift from the letters I got in high school, I’d actually consider this school. Not that the schools that recruited me in high school were bad, its just that Tufts is a lot better.
I have, however, come to the conclusion that there is nothing solely good about the process of the future, and upon further research, I found that 1) I can’t apply to their PH.D. program 2) they aren’t all that highly ranked for their masters programs and 3) they don’t automatically fund their grad students. I may still apply there, but my enthusiasm was tempered quite quickly.
I was also invited to be on the Senior Gift Committee, which is an honor. I don’t know if I’m going to do it, as I don’t know if I’m going to do scav at all and if I do, what context I’ll do it in. I’m resolved not to have a spring like I did last year, when I lost a shirt size from a lack of food and an overabundance of stress.
As my desire to do, um, anything in particular after graduation seems to wane, I’m really wondering what I pushed myself so hard for. I’ve got a resume that includes major leadership positions in every organization I’ve been a part of, and a transcript that I should be proud of (I’m not, but whatever), but I’m still not sure I made the right sacrifices. I guess we’ll see in a few months.
Having class in the afternoon meant sleeping in, and I took full advantage of the extra time. Still, I felt like I had left plenty of time to get to the Tube station, renew my Oyster card, and make it class in more than enough time.
The problem was, I couldn’t just add money to the card since I was switching from a weekly to a monthly pass. I had to fill out a whole new form to protect the card in case of loss, good idea in theory, but a rather large time sink.
Nevertheless, I made it with about two minutes to spare, which wasn’t enough to grab coffee on the way, but enough to not get a dirty look from prof. Murin before class, which is far more important.
I don’t think I’ve ever had a class feel so useless. Perhaps it was because I was watching the markets free fall as we were discussing the fact that the Vikings fought on BOTH sides of battle for about 25 min. (They were mercenaries, they fought for whoever paid them, it isn’t a hard concept). It could be because we spent over an hour looking at the middle English text for one of the poems, which exactly 1 person in the class understood (the prof), or maybe it was because I was still tired from the dead sprint between Holburn Station and the IES center, but it all seemed so irrelevant.
After class the decision was made to head back to Ye Old Cheshire Cheese for a quick pint. I was distracted, however, by the fruit stand by the Tube stop. A pound of GOOD strawberries and two apples for under two pounds is a great deal by any standard, so I was quite pleased.
However, I ended up separated from the group headed to the pub, and despite my best efforts, couldn’t connect with them. I’m still not sure how I missed them, but no matter, I wasn’t dying for a pint and it saved me a couple pounds. My knees and ankles were getting to me, so rather than hike back up to Holburn, I decided to try and find the closest tube stop. I managed to find Blackfriars, and the correct line, and headed home to Chelsea.
There was something very satisfying about sitting on the Tube reading one of London’s many free newspapers. I felt as thought I had conquered the city by not getting completely lost in an unfamiliar place. I hopped off in Chelsea and started home.
However, I still needed dinner, and decided to stop off at a different Tesco than usual, one which took me a bit out of the way*. It was busy, but I scooted through quickly and proceeded onward, albeit on a different route than usual.
*On the way, I was handed a brochure for a Chinese clinic specializing in the use of acupuncture for the treatment of, among other things, impotency. I think the strippers of Cardiff and this nice Chinese girl need to meet and decide if my issue is too much testosterone or way too little. I’m getting mixed messages here.
It was a very nice change to cruise through a different set of streets, even if I was only a block or two away from my normal path, and it gave me a different view of Chelsea. I saw at least two Bentleys on my walk, which either means they are cheap here or that Chelsea is even richer than I thought. I’m guessing it’s the latter not the former.
The evening has been quiet, marked by very little. I did receive my first grad school recruitment letter, and, in a marked shift from the letters I got in high school, I’d actually consider this school. Not that the schools that recruited me in high school were bad, its just that Tufts is a lot better.
I have, however, come to the conclusion that there is nothing solely good about the process of the future, and upon further research, I found that 1) I can’t apply to their PH.D. program 2) they aren’t all that highly ranked for their masters programs and 3) they don’t automatically fund their grad students. I may still apply there, but my enthusiasm was tempered quite quickly.
I was also invited to be on the Senior Gift Committee, which is an honor. I don’t know if I’m going to do it, as I don’t know if I’m going to do scav at all and if I do, what context I’ll do it in. I’m resolved not to have a spring like I did last year, when I lost a shirt size from a lack of food and an overabundance of stress.
As my desire to do, um, anything in particular after graduation seems to wane, I’m really wondering what I pushed myself so hard for. I’ve got a resume that includes major leadership positions in every organization I’ve been a part of, and a transcript that I should be proud of (I’m not, but whatever), but I’m still not sure I made the right sacrifices. I guess we’ll see in a few months.
Notes
Due to a miscommunication, I ended up walking home alone from class. From Holburn to Blackfriars, home to Kensington and finally back to the dorm, here are a few things I noticed.
* The Nissan Punto - Has to be the scrappiest car in all of London.
* In a city where parking is worse than Chicago, with even more people driving, how could you buy anything but a smart car
* I think the girl sitting across from me on the Tube was vaguely interested in me. Me? I was just lost.
* Public transit in this city just...works. That's all you can say when you go from lost to knowing exactly where you are all because there are enough Tube stations around to serve as good landmarks.
* "No Junk Mail" signs on houses in Chelsea, wonder who makes the call on what counts as Junk
* Izuzu Rodeo or some such quasi-SUV. Ugly as sin, practical as it gets. Wonder if these will make a comeback in the US?
More later, but that's what I saw on the way home from Kensington Station.
* The Nissan Punto - Has to be the scrappiest car in all of London.
* In a city where parking is worse than Chicago, with even more people driving, how could you buy anything but a smart car
* I think the girl sitting across from me on the Tube was vaguely interested in me. Me? I was just lost.
* Public transit in this city just...works. That's all you can say when you go from lost to knowing exactly where you are all because there are enough Tube stations around to serve as good landmarks.
* "No Junk Mail" signs on houses in Chelsea, wonder who makes the call on what counts as Junk
* Izuzu Rodeo or some such quasi-SUV. Ugly as sin, practical as it gets. Wonder if these will make a comeback in the US?
More later, but that's what I saw on the way home from Kensington Station.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Backblogs: Thursday in Wales
7:30 was too early to set an alarm for me; I should have known that.
The alarm went off and it did, indeed, rouse me. However, I fooled myself into thinking I could doze for just a second and then get up. 8:15 was a better time to wake than 8:45, but it still forced Ryan and I into a tizzy to get ready in time.
We weren’t even the last on the bus before 8:30, and we needn’t have hurried, since the professors didn’t show up until 9. Once we got on the road almost everyone fell asleep. Mornings don’t agree with college students, and this one was no different.
I woke up as we hit the border and stayed awake into Cardiff. We arrived at our hostel, threw our bags into a spare room, and headed into the city. We looked for a place to grab lunch as we meandered through the city center. We found an all-you-can-eat Indian place, which wasn’t bad, but we were the only people there, which made it a little weird. The place couldn’t have been open for more than a week with the way the owner was hovering around, so the service was good, but a little overbearing.
Since we were most of the way to the Welsh National Museum, we headed that way. It was a decent sized place, but it was an odd mix of art and natural history, literally: Natural history was on the bottom floor, art on the top.
If we hadn’t just been to the National gallery and the British Museum, I think it would have seemed better. However, since both of those places were fresh in the mind, the Welsh cousins seemed a little paltry. Not that they didn’t have nice things, they just didn’t have as much or as nice of things.
We headed back to Cardiff Castle for our tour, by way of coffee, since the afternoon was winding down before our eyes. The castle was incredible, built on an old roman site and formerly the home of a very rich family. Pictures were forbidden, but Blake took my camera and got some great shots surreptitiously. The gold paint was all 22-karat leaf and money was clearly no object. I was floored by hour intricate the designs were, but when the owner is one of the richest men to ever attend Oxford and given that they used the castle as a summer home, I suppose the sky is the limit.
Dinner was a three-course meal at an Italian restaurant in one of Cardiff’s covered markets, tab covered by IES. The food was great, the wine was decent, but free flowing, and it was nice to see the group finally starting to mingle a bit. I had the veal, which was good, and enjoyed tiramisu for the first time.
We all split up after dinner and headed to various areas of the city. The group I was in was of tow minds about our destination. Some wanted to dance, others just wanted to find a quiet pub and pass the evening. The dancers won out and we ended up at Flares, which was the trashiest place I’ve been to in a long long time.
It isn’t that I don’t like the idea of a real 70s disco still existing in the heart of Cardiff, Wales, its just that the whole place seems gratuitus (See the picture of the men’s bathroom sign [Dudes]). Maybe the over-the-top atmosphere and dance floor that looked like a permanent Twister board was authentic, either way, the place was hilarious and we were the youngest people there by many years.
The group fractured again, and I ended up at the pub next door, much to the chagrin of the strippers who really wanted me to head one door further to their domain [Free Cover!]. I was starting to fade and couldn’t see hanging out in such a bar as this (yuppies abounded and the prices showed it) so I headed back to the hostel for the night.
As much as I wanted to stay up for the VP debate, the day had just taken too much of a toll on me. From what I hear, Palin only succeeded in that she lowered expectations so much that even she couldn’t have possibly missed exceeding them. Not exactly what I’d call Must See TV.
The alarm went off and it did, indeed, rouse me. However, I fooled myself into thinking I could doze for just a second and then get up. 8:15 was a better time to wake than 8:45, but it still forced Ryan and I into a tizzy to get ready in time.
We weren’t even the last on the bus before 8:30, and we needn’t have hurried, since the professors didn’t show up until 9. Once we got on the road almost everyone fell asleep. Mornings don’t agree with college students, and this one was no different.
I woke up as we hit the border and stayed awake into Cardiff. We arrived at our hostel, threw our bags into a spare room, and headed into the city. We looked for a place to grab lunch as we meandered through the city center. We found an all-you-can-eat Indian place, which wasn’t bad, but we were the only people there, which made it a little weird. The place couldn’t have been open for more than a week with the way the owner was hovering around, so the service was good, but a little overbearing.
Since we were most of the way to the Welsh National Museum, we headed that way. It was a decent sized place, but it was an odd mix of art and natural history, literally: Natural history was on the bottom floor, art on the top.
If we hadn’t just been to the National gallery and the British Museum, I think it would have seemed better. However, since both of those places were fresh in the mind, the Welsh cousins seemed a little paltry. Not that they didn’t have nice things, they just didn’t have as much or as nice of things.
We headed back to Cardiff Castle for our tour, by way of coffee, since the afternoon was winding down before our eyes. The castle was incredible, built on an old roman site and formerly the home of a very rich family. Pictures were forbidden, but Blake took my camera and got some great shots surreptitiously. The gold paint was all 22-karat leaf and money was clearly no object. I was floored by hour intricate the designs were, but when the owner is one of the richest men to ever attend Oxford and given that they used the castle as a summer home, I suppose the sky is the limit.
Dinner was a three-course meal at an Italian restaurant in one of Cardiff’s covered markets, tab covered by IES. The food was great, the wine was decent, but free flowing, and it was nice to see the group finally starting to mingle a bit. I had the veal, which was good, and enjoyed tiramisu for the first time.
We all split up after dinner and headed to various areas of the city. The group I was in was of tow minds about our destination. Some wanted to dance, others just wanted to find a quiet pub and pass the evening. The dancers won out and we ended up at Flares, which was the trashiest place I’ve been to in a long long time.
It isn’t that I don’t like the idea of a real 70s disco still existing in the heart of Cardiff, Wales, its just that the whole place seems gratuitus (See the picture of the men’s bathroom sign [Dudes]). Maybe the over-the-top atmosphere and dance floor that looked like a permanent Twister board was authentic, either way, the place was hilarious and we were the youngest people there by many years.
The group fractured again, and I ended up at the pub next door, much to the chagrin of the strippers who really wanted me to head one door further to their domain [Free Cover!]. I was starting to fade and couldn’t see hanging out in such a bar as this (yuppies abounded and the prices showed it) so I headed back to the hostel for the night.
As much as I wanted to stay up for the VP debate, the day had just taken too much of a toll on me. From what I hear, Palin only succeeded in that she lowered expectations so much that even she couldn’t have possibly missed exceeding them. Not exactly what I’d call Must See TV.
Backblogs: Wednesday
Wednesday:
Last Day of class for the week, thank goodness. Seminars are meant to be taught once a week, so this three days in a row junk isn’t good. C’est la vie. I suppose.
Class was fine, Prof. Murin seems to be getting better and better at moving class along, which is nice. I suppose it takes the profs time to adjust to a new year too, so he gets a pass for a rough week. He made the first big mistake of the class today by calling out a kid who was on his laptop, not me, but someone close to me.
The kicker is, he wasn’t doing anything but taking notes and downloading a TV episode for later. Murin looked more than a little foolish when he was so convinced Blake was screwing around that he stopped his lecture to look at his screen, which was basically blank.
After class we decided to walk down to Fleet Street once again to try the pub built on the site of Sweeny Todd’s shop. The Old Bank of England Pub) is incredibly nice, and with absolutely top notch food, but one certainly paid for the opulence.
Massive vaulted ceilings, a brass rail on the bar, and thick hardwood tables don’t come cheap, but whenever you get the chance to buy a meat pie from the site where Mrs. Lovett supposedly packed poor Sweeny’s victims into her pies, well, you’ve just got to. We settled the bill (circa 100 pounds for 9 of us) and headed back to Chelsea.
It was hard to treat the evening like any other night, we were all pretty excited to leave the next morning for Wales, but work is work. As I sat on my bunk, trying to read Egil’s Saga, I realized I had forgotten my headphones, so I hopped down to grab them before I started. As I climbed back up to my top bunk, I noticed it was at a rather, um, non-traditional angle. Namely, any angle not 180 degrees. As I slid my weight forward to try and escape the Picasso-esque contraption, the bed lurched forward and suddenly my top bunk became a bottom. Other than a bump on the leg, I was fine, albeit a bit shaken by the ride.
Even though I was able to get the bunk back into its rightful place, I figured a night on the floor was probably for the best. The bunk was as heavy as all get out, and I was wiped out from the effort of moving it, so I decided to end my work and watch the Champion’s League matches.
Sadly, our lounge was full, so I had to go down to the 8th floor to find an open TV. It was Ryan, the 8th floor RA, and a random Greek guy watching the match. All of us were pretty well versed in the game, which made it a lot of fun, also the RA made us cake. Cake is ALWAYS for the win. Always.
After the matches ended, Ryan and I decided that it was probably a better idea to pack that night than in the morning, since we were due to depart at 8:30am. Bags were packed, alarms were set, and I burrowed into my makeshift sleeping bag on the floor. Wales in the morning!
Last Day of class for the week, thank goodness. Seminars are meant to be taught once a week, so this three days in a row junk isn’t good. C’est la vie. I suppose.
Class was fine, Prof. Murin seems to be getting better and better at moving class along, which is nice. I suppose it takes the profs time to adjust to a new year too, so he gets a pass for a rough week. He made the first big mistake of the class today by calling out a kid who was on his laptop, not me, but someone close to me.
The kicker is, he wasn’t doing anything but taking notes and downloading a TV episode for later. Murin looked more than a little foolish when he was so convinced Blake was screwing around that he stopped his lecture to look at his screen, which was basically blank.
After class we decided to walk down to Fleet Street once again to try the pub built on the site of Sweeny Todd’s shop. The Old Bank of England Pub) is incredibly nice, and with absolutely top notch food, but one certainly paid for the opulence.
Massive vaulted ceilings, a brass rail on the bar, and thick hardwood tables don’t come cheap, but whenever you get the chance to buy a meat pie from the site where Mrs. Lovett supposedly packed poor Sweeny’s victims into her pies, well, you’ve just got to. We settled the bill (circa 100 pounds for 9 of us) and headed back to Chelsea.
It was hard to treat the evening like any other night, we were all pretty excited to leave the next morning for Wales, but work is work. As I sat on my bunk, trying to read Egil’s Saga, I realized I had forgotten my headphones, so I hopped down to grab them before I started. As I climbed back up to my top bunk, I noticed it was at a rather, um, non-traditional angle. Namely, any angle not 180 degrees. As I slid my weight forward to try and escape the Picasso-esque contraption, the bed lurched forward and suddenly my top bunk became a bottom. Other than a bump on the leg, I was fine, albeit a bit shaken by the ride.
Even though I was able to get the bunk back into its rightful place, I figured a night on the floor was probably for the best. The bunk was as heavy as all get out, and I was wiped out from the effort of moving it, so I decided to end my work and watch the Champion’s League matches.
Sadly, our lounge was full, so I had to go down to the 8th floor to find an open TV. It was Ryan, the 8th floor RA, and a random Greek guy watching the match. All of us were pretty well versed in the game, which made it a lot of fun, also the RA made us cake. Cake is ALWAYS for the win. Always.
After the matches ended, Ryan and I decided that it was probably a better idea to pack that night than in the morning, since we were due to depart at 8:30am. Bags were packed, alarms were set, and I burrowed into my makeshift sleeping bag on the floor. Wales in the morning!
Home from Wales!
I’m finally back from my whirlwind trip through Wales, and what a trip it was! As I did with the photos, I’m going to put up a separate blog for each day (including Wednesday, before we left), but they’ll probably end up being a little shorter than usual. I’ve got a good memory, but I’m only one man.
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