And my lungs hurt/ and my ears bled/ with the sounds of the city life/ echoed in my head

Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it doesn't. But it's becoming a dream. I've slipped back into my old life, college life, and it's a backwards slide. I was afraid of losing what I'd gained in the city and I have. I know myself too well. I'm complacent and lazy and it's easy, it's so easy, to stay in my house with my friends and eat good food and watch good television and study for classes and forget the world.

Geneseo doesn't have much on offer, not like London did. And so I've become who I was again and London's dreamy and incorporeal in my mind.

Sometimes I miss it so bad. Sometimes I'm too busy being with Danes or Roomie to miss it. Sometimes I'm too caught up in my own dreamworld, in another London in another future in another version of me, to remember what it was really like.

I don't want it to fade into dream, the edges of the memory ripped and stained from trying too hard to keep it. But it already has and, while I don't want to miss out on what's here, I don't want to lose it.

Rain, rain--come back!

I love my friends and my classes and my professors and getting to see Danes on weekends and all the things that come with senior year at Geneseo...

But I miss Kingston. I miss classes and I miss Ian and I miss the steel-grey-and-charcoal sky and I miss the long walk from Berrylands into Surbiton and then Kingston and I miss the pubs (oh boy howdy, do I miss the pubs) and the proximity to London Proper.

It rained today. Not just sprinkles and not even just a thunderstorm, but a proper, all-out downpour. The kind that not even my umbrella could save me from. It started and then stopped and then started up again out of nowhere and just felt really, properly English. Danes texted me earlier, before the heavens opened up, with: "Buffalo feels like London today: it is really foggy, and it just started raining a bit."

I don't know if I wrote about it here (I must've done, but I just went through a couple months and couldn't find it), but one day, I walked into Surbiton to do something and I took Mr. H's giant golf umbrella (sort of like the one Mycroft uses, but not quite); lucky that I did, because it just started pouring down as I came back. Wind-whipping, jeans-sticking hard rain and, about 10 minutes from home, it became useless to keep the umbrella open. So I closed it, and enjoyed getting soaked to the bone with Spectrum in my ears and a giant grin on my face. These are the things I remember.

It's getting hard to remember. Pictures, blog posts, writing, my journal--they all help, but like anything in memory, there comes a time when you think to yourself, "do I actually remember that, or am I remembering the sketch of the situation and making things up to fill in the gaps?"

I don't know if anyone still reads this blog; not many of you did in the first place. Maybe I'll just keep it for myself. Save my wrist the cramp that comes from writing too much in my journal.

Alright?

Instead of saying "Hi, how are you?", people in London just nodded at you and said "Alright?"

So, hello!  Since England, my life has been busy, but not terribly interesting. Not really blog-worthy. I miss London, but it's not an achy feeling. (Until I start looking at flats for rent in London again. That is a bad, bad idea, in case you were wondering.)

This summer, I:

• played Hermia in A Midsummer Night's Dream
• took a math class (that may or may not actually count for my math credit. Dammit, 'seo, get yourself together)
• worked on the archaeological dig in my area

I am now back at school for my senior year (ahhhhhhhhhhhh) and really excited! Classes I am taking:

• Classical Anthropological Theory (our senior seminar)
• Qualitative Research Methods in Anthropology*
• Myths & Folklore of Native North Americans
• Ethnography and Film
• *I am also my favorite professor's research assistant this semester, which is a) awesome, b) looks good on a resume and c) I get paid! However, I'm getting nervous. I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing, what I'm supposed to be doing, and it's going to be a lot harder than I thought. 

Danes is all gradumacated, but he's close by, so I'm seeing him every other weekend, supposedly. He helped me move in last weekend, which was nice. We're still doing well; almost at 2.5 years, crazy!

I read a bunch of books this summer, most notably:

• the most recent Nightside
• the second-to-last Drood book (both Simon R. Green)
• and the entire Ruth Galloway series of archaeological mysteries set in England (ugh, I don't really like Ruth, but the stories are so addicting)
• and I'm in the middle of Oscar Wilde and the Vatican Murders

Also, there is tv!

• I got halfway through True Blood and then my computer died (I'm using my dad's old one and I'm getting one for my birfday)
• I also just recently got into Luther (SO. GOOD.)
• And Roomie has just been showing me Death Note and I like it. Probably the only anime I like. 

Here, have some neo-swing-rockabilly that is my current obsession



Till next time!

Home again, home again, rig a jig jig

As most of you know, I did, in fact, make it home safe and sound. Picked up by my parents at the airport in Boston and then driven all the way home. Wonderful parents that they are, we stopped in Albany for dinner...at "Ye Olde English Pub." (Or something like that, anyway, it was a pub.) It had fish & chips, and steak and mushroom pie, and it was nice. I had bangers & mash and I drank the Strongbow dad ordered. (Shh)

Sunday and Monday, as if apologizing for bringing me home, the parents bought me tickets to see the filmed versions of my current favorite actor (Benedict Cumberbatch) in the play Frankenstein. Two showings because he and the other actor switched roles every night, so one performance he was the Creature and the next he was Victor Frankenstein, the creator. It was wonderful and amazing and incredible and other adjectives like that.

Later today, I am meeting up with Jules, who arrived home a few weeks before I did, and that should be nice. I'll be making the rounds sometime soon, so those of you reading this who are here, I'll be seeing you at some point!

For the moment, though, I have a cup of coffee (real coffee! The English don't understand just a plain cup of coffee and they certainly don't understand having a coffee maker in the house. But that's alright because we don't have electric kettles. I have to wait 10-15 minutes for the kettle to boil properly before I can have my tea!) and the windows are wide open and it smells like summer in the north country. Summer smells different here. It's familiar. Scent memory and all that.

I've been okay. There have been a few moments in the past couple days where I felt--uneasy. Restless. Just right now I was going through the London section on one of my websites which is chock full of picture upon picture of Parliament and the Eye and Tower Bridge and iconic pieces that make me sad. I shouldn't look through the pictures, because I know it'll make me sad and I genuinely like being home, but I'm afraid of becoming too complacent again. This happens when I'm home. I get even lazier. I waste whole days watching tv and never doing anything and I don't want to reverse all the changes that happened to me over there.

I'm different than I was when I arrived in Heathrow in January. I don't want to go back to how I was. Not that how I was was bad or anything, just--I like how I've changed. I like who I've become. I want that to continue and I want the clarity of recognizing my changes and of knowing who I am again.

I still owe you the story of Venice. I'll do that soon. And I'll still be writing here occasionally, either missing London or looking at it from a distance. When it gets farther away (and how much I hate that it will get farther away!), I'll probably do a piece on what I learned and what a wonderful experience it was, now in the context of being home and being different and seeing things in a new way.

But for now, I hope you have enjoyed my blog as I took you around the world with me. ♥ 

"I belong to London. And London belongs to me."*

Nope, actually, today was my goodbye to London. And my goodbye to Bella. And my goodbye to, well, everything.

I met up with Bella at The King's Tun for lunch...with her sister in tow. The two of them are staying in London for a week and then traveling Europe together. I'm so jealous! Her sister is very nice and the three of us had a very nice, leisurely lunch. I even managed to hug and leave Bella without crying! Which is surprising, since she became my best friend here, and I hope to stay friends for a long while. She keeps saying I should go visit her in California (where she lives) or Oregon (where she goes to school), so maybe...who knows...

It was weird leaving Bella, because I felt a bit disconnected. I wasn't super sad and I didn't start to cry and I didn't have the feeling that I was leaving her behind. We were just parting.

It actually didn't hit me until I was walking through Waterloo to get to my train back to Berrylands that I'm leaving. Like, on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again. It's been in my head, I've been packing, I've been sad that I'm leaving, but I hadn't actually thought, "Crap, I'm leaving," until tonight.

Holding back tears on the train as it pulled out of Waterloo aside, it was a nice farewell to London. This morning, I made a reservation at The Criterion Restaurant for dinner, because I wanted to and because I'd already been to all my favorite pubs in the past week and where better for a goodbye dinner than a very famous and very swanky place? And it is, indeed, very swanky. So I dressed accordingly and tried to act accordingly, but I think I failed at being a real lady, even though I looked the part. (I surprised myself with how grown-up I looked, in my little black dress and heels, "pearl" studs and hair swept back in a low ponytail. I looked good. And adult.)

A delicious, English-y dinner: beef pie (but ~fancy~) and a glass of rose (oh, I felt so special ordering a glass of wine by myself!), with Eton Mess and a pot of Earl Gray for dessert. I felt a little out of place amongst all the couples and families and I think I may have weirded people out with my people-watching, but I like having dinner alone. I get to think and observe and eat good food.

After that yummy ending, I walked back down through my route: from Piccadilly Circus (where Criterion is), down Haymarket, over to Trafalgar Square and through it, down Northumberland Avenue, over the bridge there, down the South Bank to my favorite spot, squished between the Eye and Westminster Bridge, with a view of Parliament.  I actually ended up in the pub right there, too, with a half pint of Strongbow as I sat out in the cold and watched my city wrap up its evening and prepare for Friday night.

Just as I was writing this, the two girls in the house came to say goodbye and I got hugs from them and I love it. They are so sweet. Lydia, the older one, always has a lot to say and Alice is positively adorable and I really wish the best for them. For this whole family, really. They've been absolutely lovely these past few months and while I'm thinking about it, I should go write a letter to leave for them in the morning.

I might blog when I get up at 5.00 am (UGH), but most likely, you won't be hearing from me until I'm safely ensconced at home in NY.

Goodbye, England. Goodbye, London. Goodbye, Hemmingtons. Farewell, farewell, farewell. 


* From the book London Belongs to Me, by Norman Collins. Good book. Best quote.

Don't go without saying: au revoir, a bientot, something in German, goodnight*

It's after midnight and I'm setting my alarm for 7.00 so I can get last minute things done...Oh well, I can sleep when I get back to the Qby.

I spent 12 hours in my city today, and a good, oh, six of them were spent soaking wet. It downpoured from about noon (when I was comfortably ensconced in the Lyceum Tavern having a spectacular Chicken Tikka Masala--man, the Brits really do know how to do a curry!) until around six or so (when I was comfortably ensconced in The Sherlock Holmes Pub). Luckily, I came prepared with my umbrella, but it was still a very wet day.

A very wet day, but a very good and a very emotional day. I said goodbye, in whispers, barely moving my lips, barely a breath, but still a goodbye. I'd prefer to be like What's Up Doc: "Let's not say goodbye. Let's say...au revoir." It's played for laughs, and it is a funny bit, but I'd still quite like to be saying a word other than goodbye.

Farewell. That's the word I want.

Farewell. It's a parting, but well-wishing. Be well, do well, have a good life and fare well in my absence.

I said farewell to the big iconic pieces everyone knows; I said farewell to pubs; I said farewell to that tearoom I like so much; I said farewell to the shops, to the buses, to the people. But most of all, I said farewell to what the city did for me. I've changed and I'll carry that with me, yes, but there are certain feelings I have in the city that I don't have in other places. And I will miss that.

For example, I'll miss the noise. I know you're all thinking I'm crazy, the noise is one of the least attractive things about a city. It's horrendous, all those sirens and all those honking horns and you can't hear yourself think. But that, right there, that last bit is why I love the noise so much.

My father has never understood why I listen to music while I study. He and I would argue; he said it distracted me (and to an extent, it did. Let's be honest, I never needed a good excuse to procrastinate...) But my brain doesn't like to shut off. It's why it routinely takes me an hour, two, more to fall asleep at night, always has. It's why I can't find my center in meditation without a guided audio or music. It's why I listen to punk or heavy metal (Sex Pistols and Judas Priest, are you proud of me, daddy?) when I study for finals and why I put on classical violin pieces to write papers. Music drowns out the inane chatter that has always filled my head since I learned how to string words together in endless chains of useless babble. So does the city.

Standing in the middle of the traffic circle in Trafalgar Square is the closest I will get to chanting om and crossing my legs in ways they don't actually bend. I cease thinking. I let the noise drown out the five year old who goes on babbling day and night in my head. She's still chattering away, but I can't hear her. I can only hear the sound of everyone else's lives.

And that's just one example of what the city has done for me. You know, as much as I loved being at Kingston, I really really wish I could have been in the city proper. It'd be such a different feeling to be there day and night, instead of as many hours as I can stand before making my way to the hushed (disgustingly quiet) suburbs.

I had a point to this post, really I did, but I have spent near on 12 hours on my feet and I am tired, physically and emotionally.

And scene.


* A cute little riff intro to a live version of Melody Gardot's Goodnite. I can't find that version on youtube, but it's the iTunes Live from Soho version, if you want to track it down.

Second star on the right and straight on till morning*

So Bella and I made it to Brighton! Luckily, the deluge started after we'd already walked along the water (English Channel) and down the pier and were having lunch (well, "all-day breakies") in a diner/cafe along the boardwalk.

It's been such English weather this week. It's either England's way of making sure I don't miss it as much, or it's England's way of seeing me off properly. It's been about 50, grey and windy for the past few days, and it downpoured for a solid few hours this afternoon. So what did we do? Wandered around the mall and then hung out at Wetherspoons, ha.

Brighton was very nice, though, and I'm very pleased I got to have a look around. We spent about 5 hours there and it was about an hour long train trip (~20 mins to Clapham Junction, where Bella and I met up, and then about 40 to Brighton) and it was a very pleasant day, even with the drenching.

As a result, I arrived home earlier than I had thought, so I made some dinner and set about watching the film Third Star.

This is not a film you want to watch if you want to be happy. But it is an amazing film and one that is very important for me to watch right now, I think. Lately, I've been feeling sorry for myself. My charmed life is coming to a slower point, I'm leaving a place I feel happy and at home in, and I am worrying about the future. Will I ever come back? Will I ever get the chance? There is still so much I want to do. I've checked so much off my bucket list this semester, but the list just keeps going and going.

I want to do everything. I want to be everything. I want to be special. I want the world.

I have the chance.

I'm not going to spoil it for you, but the story is basically a buddy camping trip, with three friends supporting the fourth (Benedict Cumberbatch), who is terminally ill. Cancer. I'm going to warn you, it hurts. It hurts so bad, and there were some places where I had to pause the film because the hysterical crying went so deep I couldn't hear, couldn't focus on the screen, couldn't pay attention. It hurts. But it's so good. Not just because of how it's written, or how it's filmed, or how it's acted. But because it puts my life in perspective.

I have an amazing life. Utterly incredible. I have seen things and done things this semester I believed I never would. And I'm feeling sorry for myself because these amazing things are ending and I have to go back to real life? I'm small and my "problems," such as they are, are small and I have my whole life, the entire world, stretched out in front of me and I feel small in the face of the big, wide world and the possibilities therein.

If I want to come back, I will. I will make it happen, I will find a way. For now, the very fact that I was allowed this opportunity is unbelievable. I am so bloody lucky. And one day, I hope to be this lucky again. It will take hard work and it will probably be harder than I think, but I can do it. And more than that, I will do it. Because my life stretches before me, and it will be a long and happy and fulfilled one. I will make sure of that.

And if, god forbid and knock on wood and spin around widdershins three times while throwing pepper over your left shoulder, it isn't long, it isn't happy, then by god, it will still be mine. I can and will decide what my life is like.

And all of this is because I've grown up while I've been here. What a wonderful four-and-a-half months.

* A quote from Peter Pan and, as far as I can tell, inspiration for the title of the film. James, the main character, makes a barely-heard comment about how he thought it was third star on the right...

To think you came here for the treasure?/ But nobody ever came here for the weather*

Yesterday was interesting. Awesome, but cold.

I took the 11.15 into Central, and it's a good thing I did. I got a pasty and got down to the Embankment, by the Eye, by noon and a half hour later, they closed the barricades. And then they opened them again because of the angry mob of people who had just left to get food and whose parents and children and friends were right there. And then they closed them again. And then opened them again.

As for me, I just chilled there for the next 3.5 hours, watching the insanity. It was not terribly well-organized, and it made a lot of people angry. But I had a spot just at the back of a crush of people, directly to the left of the Eye, with a wonderful view of Westminster Bridge and Parliament. A prime spot, actually.

But, when it came time to actually see the flotilla, I couldn't see but for all the people and cameras and umbrellas in the way. It was fine, I didn't really care much about the flotilla itself; I caught a couple glimpses and I cheered with the rest and that was enough. What I really liked was being a part of it all. We were cold and damp (not wet; it didn't start downpouring until I was on the train back home, thankfully) and the people in the front were being jerkfaces and it was a slightly antagonistic feeling the whole way through, but I was part of the crowd for the Queen's Diamond Jubilee. The second one to happen in the whole of British monarchical history. (The first was Queen Victoria, and now QEII, and when told that, the girl from Hong Kong I was hanging out with said, "Ah, so the women last longer!" I enjoyed that.)

I was there, in the crowd, in an iconic place, at an historical time. And that was all I really cared about. I was there. In fact, I went onto a website I frequent last night to find a number of pictures of the Jubilee pageant and the only comment I added was "I was there. It was cold. But awesome."

It was actually not as packed as I had assumed it would be. I'd thought it would be packed front-to-back with bodies, no way to move around, no flow, just everyone waiting. It wasn't all that bad. Well, on the Embankment where I was. Waterloo Station itself and what I could see of Westminster Bridge (and later, on the tv footage, Tower and London Bridges) was thick with people. As I put on Facebook, London was absolutely mad and it was glorious. Really, a lot of fun. Dodging people, this way and that, slipping through spaces as I walked confidently down to where I needed to be, where I knew the streets and a back way to get there.

Speaking of my city, since my time is rapidly ticking down, I want to share my city with you. So here it is, from the top of the tallest building in the EU, the Shard: London. Go explore it.

Today, I've been packing. And thinking about going home. And thinking about a lot of things. And later tonight, I will be meeting up with Bella to see them light the Kingston Beacon as part of the Jubilee ceremony. (Think, LotR or 101 Dalmations.)

Until then, I think I'll do some writing and some more thinking.

* City of Gold, Professor Green. Rap. A different side of London than I've ever seen, which reminds me just how little I actually know about my city.

God Save the Queen!*

Happy Jubilee Weekend! It's the Queen's Diamond Jubilee weekend, and it is a very English day for such an occasion. Grey and rainy and hopefully it'll lighten up before this afternoon for the festivities.

What festivities, you ask? Well, quite a few! I'm only doing one today, though, and that's assuming I can find a place to stand. The Queen's flotilla starts at Battersea Bridge at 2.00 and heads up the Thames to either London Bridge or Tower Bridge, I can't remember. Mrs. H said I should take the District line from Wimbledon and go to Putney, where it starts, and then follow it along the river...but it's not looking like such a good day for that.

My plan, inasmuch as one can call it a plan, is to go in around noon and pick up something for lunch then wait at the Embankment, near the Eye, to watch it go by. I'm a little worried, because the South Bank is completely swamped on a good weekend and this should be intense. But where else should I go? This is my countdown, my goodbye to my city, and where better to feel like London than in the thick of it!

I have tea to fortify me (sadly lacking in milk...) and an umbrella (a nice black one, like a proper Londoner) and a tacky London shirt and my top hat. Let the festivities commence!

Thank you, Primark! 6 pounds for this shiny, sequiny shirt of London

* Your choice: the anthem or the Sex Pistols version

Life is love and understanding, fear is losing all control*

Mm, it's been a good couple of days.

After I posted yesterday, I went to meet up with Bella in London. We wandered around for a few hours, then made our way to The Troubadour, in Earl's Court, for dinner and a gig that started at 8 downstairs. The Troubadour is a very yummy, but very expensive, place, but that's really not what I'm here to talk about.

Background: In sophomore year of high school, I first heard a song (Back Again) by this English band called Boy Kill Boy and I fell in love. I bought their first album and preordered their second so that it was delivered to me on the day of release and I listened to them on repeat (like I do) all the time. About six months after their second album was released, they broke up. I was completely gutted. Especially because, at the time I was just formulating plans to study abroad in England (even in junior year of high school, I knew it would happen) and I'd really, really hoped I could possibly, someday, maybe see them live. That is a dream that will never come true.

Since 2008, I've been searching on and off for what the members have been doing since. The lead singer, Chris Peck, has an absolutely fantastic voice and guitar style and I was particularly keen to see what he was up to. Around December, I found out he's in a new band. I friended them on Facebook and have kept up with their news and gigs and songs. And then, a couple months ago, they announced they'd be playing last night at The Troubadour. I asked Bella if she wanted to come with me and that was that. So last night, at The Troubadour, I got to see one-fourth of BKB live. Actually, that's a little unfair, to just call him one-fourth of BKB. I'm actually really, really fond of Mr. Peck and his musical abilities. Well, a lot fond. He was always my favorite.

So last night, I got to see three and a half bands (we left before Tinlin, the last band's, set ended--they were kind of boring), including Chris Peck & The Family Tree. BKB was a sort of electro-pop-rock-indie band that owed a lot to the 80s. This is a folk-rock band with an accordion and a violin and dark lyrics. I love them both equally, (though I'm more familiar with BKB). Really, I'm just incredibly jazzed to have seen Mr. Peck live. He's even more intense in person, especially his eyes (I'm fairly certain we made eye contact for half a second, maybe even 45 milliseconds, earlier in the evening, but I was too jittery and shy to smile or say hi or anything) and his voice gives me chills. It's not a particularly beautiful voice; it's not trained, it's not classical or smooth, like Michael Buble's, or wild, like Lindsey Buckingham's, but I really, really like it.

Speaking of Lindsey Buckingham, the second act, Marc O'Reilly, reminded me of an Irish Lindsey. He was completely incredible on the guitar and had a look of transcendental bliss during a couple solos. I really liked him. For everyone, but for dad especially, here is Tell Old Joe, a sort of Irish-Western thing about an outlaw.

Before I talk about today, I just want to link you to a couple CP&TFT songs, because I'm really very much in love with them. First is Riversong, the first of theirs I heard, and it's utterly gorgeous.

Then I Walk Alone, which CP described as a love-murder story. It's a classic tale, very Greek, but the music makes uniquely chilling.

Now that I'm done fangirling random English bands, onto today.

Today, I went to The Globe Theatre to see my favorite Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing, in French. The past month or so has been Globe-to-Globe, a celebration of Shakespeare and multiculturalism; 33 plays in 33 different languages. How cool is that?

I'm very glad I'm so familiar with MAAN, that it's my favorite and I've memorized bits of it, because my French really is very rusty and was very much not up to that task. However, the Beatrice and Benedick were amazing (easily my favorite Shakespearean characters...) and the actors all made it fairly easy to understand their meanings and motivations, even if you couldn't understand their language.

A very good use of 5 pounds and an afternoon.

This weekend is the jubilee, so I'm not sure quite what I'll be doing, but I'll make sure to keep you informed. Seven days from now, however, will be my last night in London...


* I Walk Alone, Chris Peck & the Family Tree

Impressions of a Country

My trip up north was an outstanding success. Highlights include gorgeous views, great food, hotel rooms all to myself, lots of writing, and medieval ruins.

Yorkshire, as far as I can tell, is what people think of when they think of England and not just London. Words used to describe said place are: quaint, peaceful, idyllic. Small stone cottages, wild, untrimmed green spaces, silence interrupted only by sheep in your garden and birds around your head. Idyllic is definitely the word. Perhaps a little too idyllic. There's a reason so many stories begin with a quiet, calm village and end in tears and blood. There must be something bubbling underneath the surface. There must be something to destroy the quaint perfection.

As far as I can tell, no, there isn't. Everyone was friendly and open; at least one person every day asked me where I was from and we had a discussion about how small the world is. (One nice lady, as she and her husband sat down to dinner, actually said to me, "You're not from 'round here, are you?" I didn't know people actually said that!) Everyone was kind. The pubs I went into were filled with regulars, people who've known each other for years, and while I was definitely the outsider, it wasn't antagonistic. People were curious, mostly. Curious why this little American girl was randomly there.

Sunday: train (and bus) travel up to Pickering.

 I didn't know where I was going on the bus (with a train, they tell you or at least you have some semblance of the stops; but the bus didn't even have the scrolling "this is our next stop" thing, so I had to rely on asking people), but once I got over my initial panic at not knowing where I was, where I should be, what I should be doing--it was really awesome. I can understand the thrill of getting lost, of not knowing where you are. It's delicious.

Pickering is an adorable little town, with shops and stone cottages and historic pubs and a medieval church that rang an amazingly complex song while I was wandering around (5.00 on a Sunday evening). I found a used bookstore, a couple ice cream places and cafes, and a whole mess of pubs. The one I stopped in had a really good local cider, delicious sausages and mash, and a very nice couple who talked to me all through dinner.


Monday: North Yorkshire Moors Railway with steam trains, starting at 9.00 am and ending around 5-5.30 at my cute little b&b. 

My plan sort of got knocked off kilter because we were hung up on a change at Grosmont, so I ended up stopping at a couple places I hadn't intended. For example, I stopped at Goathland (go-th-lend. Until I heard it, I wondered if it was goat-land, but alas, no.), where they filmed the Hogsmeade scenes in Harry Potter and the ITV series Heartbeat (which I only know because I watched 20 mins of Benedict Cumberbatch in an episode). Very idyllic. Tiny place, a pub, some shops, a tea room (where I stopped for Yorkshire cream tea) and an amazing view of the moors on all sides. Oh, and sheep. Sheep that wandered around as part of the human population. That was new for me.

Then later, I properly stopped in Grosmont. Another bookshop (didn't buy anything this time) and another pub and then finally up to Whitby. I had to ask for directions to my b&b, because I went the wrong way, and it is an absolutely adorable place. The owner was very nice. I went off to explore Whitby, a port town with medieval ruins high on a hill and the river Esk running through it. Ended up (surprise surprise) in a pub, which had very good Indian food.

Tuesday: Whitby and back down to London

I was treated to breakfast in bed around 8.45 (eggs, bacon, toast and coffee, so good) and had to check out by 10. Since my train didn't leave until 12.41 to Middlesbrough, I had a whole 2.5 hours in hand to wander Whitby. I paid a few pounds to leave my bag at the train station and then scooted up to the ruins of the Whitby abbey.

I love ruins, I really do. I often find them more interesting that whatever the building would have looked like in its prime. I like run-down things, things faded from grandeur into ruin. Ruins and dilapidated houses and gardens threatening mutiny with weeds and ivy. There is beauty in the damaged, the destroyed. But more than that, ruins tell us that even though the glory and the grandeur are gone, the pieces themselves still exist. They will go on, until nature finally wins in another five thousand years, or until humanity thinks they're obsolete and destroys them. 

Whitby has gone on for over two thousand years and it will keep going. Like the ruins of its abbey, like the sea edging its way in, and like the moors that stretch into the fog and beyond--they all will continue. Change, yes, change is inevitable, but they will survive, they will exist, for ages and ages more.

After an hour or so of wandering around in the chilly, foggy ruins, I took a stroll through the town. Happened upon the Sherlock Holmes Coffee Shop and got a ham sandwich and a coffee to go. Ate that while I read a new book (not very good, but it's about a female archaeologist at the Whitby abbey ruins, so I had to buy it) and started the long journey back to London.


It was a very nice three days. Far too short to see everything (I was informed by a couple nice men on the train that I hadn't really seen England properly) and a lot of sitting on my butt staring as the moors passed me by, but there was no way to go wandering through them, especially carting my bag around. But it was absolutely gorgeous and gave me pages upon pages of description in my journal and I'm so glad I took the time to do it.

Baby don't rush, you're no waterfall. Love me, that is all.*

Sunshine, shopping and jazz is the perfect combination for a lovely Saturday.

Tomorrow, however, starts my very first trip all by myself. I mean, I came over here by myself, but I was met at the airport and I've always gone with or met up with someone in other countries. But this time, I planned it all by myself and I get to find my way all alone. It's just England and the maps are very good, but still, it's a little nerve-wracking.

Nerve-wracking and exciting. I leave from King's Cross Station tomorrow at 12.30 and arrive in Pickering, up north, after one change onto a bus, at 4.08. From there, I find my way to my hotel, check in, and go explore Pickering for a little while. Then on Monday, I get to take a steam train on the edges of the North Yorkshire Moors park and wander around various towns, then spend the evening in Whitby. On Tuesday, I leave Whitby at 12.41 and after two changes to other trains, I arrive back in King's Cross at nearly 6. It's a small trip, with most of my time spent on various vehicles, but I'm very excited. I get to go exploring on my own! I get to go up to the Moors, the site of many a novel I've read and loved, from The Secret Garden (which first opened my eyes to the various English dialects) to Wuthering Heights ("Cathy, I am Heathcliff!")!

This should be fun. I'll be bringing my laptop, but may not update until I get back.


* Love Me Like a River Does, Melody Gardot. Today has been a jazz sort of day, and so, Melody, whose new album comes out in a couple days. I absolutely recommend her; her ballads (like this one) are gorgeous, but I prefer some of her faster/bluesier stuff. 

Paris, je t'aime!

Oh, Paris. Forgive me while I unleash my inner 1920s-diva in this post, because Paris was simply divine!

This turned out to be a rather clinical and list-y post, so I'm going to mark my favorite parts with an asterix. 

Tuesday:
+ I arrived around 12.30/1, and we made our way from Gare du Nord to her dorm at Cite Universitaire.

+ Around 2.30 we took the tram to the Musee du Monde on the banks of the Seine to see an exhibit of Balenciaga, old and new. And then wandered around that area.

+ Made it over to Montparnasse, where her school is, and sat in a cafe that looked out at the street and had Croque Madames (oh, so good) and it was very nice and very French and Paris is gorgeous in mid-afternoon sun. (Though, Paris is always gorgeous...)

+ Wandered through/around Jardin du Luxembourg, got gelato, sat and gabbed away.

+ Visited Saint Sulpice, which was featured in Da Vinci Code and is a stunning church.

+ Went to go find a bar/pub/thing that sounded really cool over near Place Saint-Michel, but alas, it wasn't that interesting. Basically just a tiny pub. (There are so many pubs in Paris! It's weird.)

* + Decided on a jazz cafe/bar, which didn't start the music until we were leaving, but I had some of the best cider I've had in my semester over here. Loic Raison, expensive, delicious, from Bretagne.

+ Back to her part of town and got sandwich grecs with a really good and spicy side sauce for a late dinner and then we watched Victor/Victoria. (Oh, so amazing, how had I not seen it before?!)

Wednesday:
+out by 10.15 to St Michel-Notre Dame metro, where we got coffee and croissants (from two different places) and then went to Notre Dame.

* + Notre Dame is an experience and a half, though our tour ended up being two and a half experiences...I'll get to that, later. But Notre Dame, oh, wow. It didn't make me feel like the Hagia Sophia, but there is a reason it is so famous.

* + Went to Shakespeare & Company, which is nearby, and spent a good long time in there. There were a couple sections where people from all over the world had left notes (SB+JR; or a quote; or "thank you;" or something) and so we did, too. For mine I used an Oscar Wilde quote (surprise, surprise): " 'It is the spectator, and not life, that art mirrors.' Thank you, Shakespeare & Co for providing us with the means to learn more about ourselves." Even though I didn't buy anything, there collection is gorgeous and you can just sit and read in the nooks for hours and play the piano and enjoy art and life.

+ Banana and Nutella crepes for lunch! jksa;hfkjdsafdsa so good

+ There is a Crypte Archaeologique out in the plaza in front of Notre Dame, where the original Roman city lies. And so obviously we had to go in there and see all the awesome ruins and pieces of walls and heating and baths they've found.

* + Then, the second part of my Notre Dame story: we went up into the towers! Yes, that is right, I went up and looked out on the city from near the top, with the gargoyles, and what is more, I went up to the belltower itself! (And of course I must link God Help the Outcasts, from Hunchback. There is a reason Esmeralda was my favorite. Oh, and Bells of Notre Dame! Man, I need to watch this again...)

* + After that amazing experience, we went up to Pere Lachaise, the famous huge cemetery in the north of Paris. They were out of maps, so we managed to chart a course to our 5 different graves and only got lost a couple times. Jim Morrison, Moliere, Sarah Bernhardt, Edith Piaf and my main man himself, Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde. ♥

+ Then came wandering around the Marais, the sort of hipster, ethnic, fun shops and vintage clothing area. We had delicious dessert-in-a-crepe crepes at a really Japanese-Lolita-style place called Princess Crepes. Lots of pink and hearts and the waitress wore a bow in her hair. Very cutesy and delicious.

+ Finally, we found our way up to Montmarte, the old artists' corner (think the movie Moulin Rouge--the Moulin is in the Red Light District which is nearby but not at Montmartre, but it's where all the artists and writers and free-thinkers of turn-of-the-century Paris went to do what they did and drink absinthe and whatnot) and found a delicious Vietnamese place (around, like, 9 or 9.30 at night, so I was very hungry, but it really was yummy). And after that, we walked up all the many, many steps to sit at the steps of Sacre Coeur and look out over Paris at night. Absolutely gorgeous. My pictures didn't turn out (I didn't think they would, but one must always try), but I am very, very glad I have that picture painted in my mind to carry with me for the rest of my life.
 
Thursday:
+ Lauren had class from 9-12, so she sent me off on my own, to....

* + THE PARIS CATACOMBS!! Ahem, excuse my excitement, but it's something I've always wanted to do and I did and I spent the entire time wandering around in a daze, muttering to myself about how amazing it was and mostly just saying "Oh my god..." and "Wow." the whole time.

+ Oh, also, before that, I went into a boulangerie and ordered a croissant and a pain au chocolat all by myself, in French, and it was a real French pain au chocolat and croissant and it was delicious and I want good French food with me at all times.

*+ Lauren and I met back up at 12.30, went out around 1-ish to the Latin Quarter, where we: went to the Pantheon (somewhere I simply must go when I go back!), got really good Lebanese take away, sat in the ruins of a Roman arena, and had tea and baklava at a cafe attached to an old mosque on the corner.

+ We went back early, to wait for her brother to arrive. (He's spending the next few days with her, and then they go home together on Wednesday. She leaves Paris after a year, he after 5 days.) He showed up around 5, we hung out and talked, then finally went out to do dinner, which consisted of: a baguette, various cheeses, and a bottle of white wine.

*+ We brought our food to a park across from Notre Dame and had our wonderfully Parisian dinner as they caught up and Michael told me all sorts of cool and interesting things. (He's an architect, so the stuff about Notre Dame was cool, but he also knows a lot about a lot of different things, including anthropology and linguistics!)

+ After wandering and showing him a little bit of Paris, we went to the cinema (apparently a very French thing to do) to see The Artist!

+ After which, we got more crepes and sat for another cider (and he got a beer) at the jazz club, then finally made it back and I collapsed into sleep.

Today (Friday):
+ I awoke at 7.15, got on the metro at 7.45, made it to Gare du Nord by myself and got on the train back home. I have been wandering, doing errands, and catching up on things here all day.

“London is a riddle. Paris is an explanation.”*

I'm off to Paris tomorrow! La belle ville!

My French is terribly rusty. When Lauren came to visit, I found that I can understand it much better than I can speak it. She only spoke in French at one point and while I didn't catch all the vocab, I remembered the basics and understood what she was saying.

I'm very excited. I leave early tomorrow morning to hop on the Eurostar train (that goes through the Chunnel!) and I arrive at Gare du Nord around lunchtime. I return early Friday morning, but until that time, I am staying with Lauren and filling myself with crepes (Nutella and banana crepes! oh heaven!) and croissants and coffee (or real chocolat chaud; it's basically a melted chocolate bar in a cup) and filling my time with Montmartre (the artist's area) and Notre Dame and Oscar Wilde's grave in Pere Lachaise and wherever else Lauren decides to take me. I am so ready for Paris in the springtime.

After I handed my paper in this morning, it's been a fairly lazy day, but I'm ready to go again. Jules said something that's stuck with me and has been in my head all day today: since arriving for our semesters, she's slowed down and I've sped up, to match where we live. It's completely true. (Very on-the-nose for an early-ish-morning comment.) I wrote a few pages worth on this topic in my journal, but I think the most important part is that, while I need to chill out and recharge my batteries, living a life of not going places and of having a set routine and of living in a place where people don't have a sense of the desperate need to move or impatience--it would be relaxing, but I would go stir-crazy inside of a week. **

I like slow, I like calm, I like peace, but I've been thriving on gogogo and then a quick rest for a couple days and then doing it all over again. Even doing not-terribly-exciting/new things like sitting in Trafalgar Square and writing or in Hyde Park and reading or just wandering places I've already been, once I settled into the stride, I've been thriving on the energy of the city. Chill in a pub for an hour, sure, but you can bet that as soon as I step into the noise and the crowd again, I'm swerving and swimming through people, pacing, fasterfastermoremore. 

Basically, I'm very excited for Paris and I'm not sure how I'm going to adjust to being home in a few weeks' time.

* G. K. Chesterton. Today has been a day of discovering new quotes that define me.

** Darling Julianna, if you are reading this, you know I don't mean it as an insult to Lampy. I mean you're right, my personality would not fit in Lampeter after having this semester as an experience. And you would absolutely hate London after another week of tourist clumps and snotty locals. We are where we were meant to be.

"You can never be overdressed or overeducated."*

Taking a break from editing my sci-fi essay to write up this weekend's excursions. (All I have left is the bibliography, easily the most irritating part, so I'm only procrastinating on that...)

Julianna arrived on Thursday! She left this morning, but we had all day Friday and Saturday, plus hours and hours on Thursday night to catch up. (At the Sherlock Holmes pub, hee!)

When I texted Jules last week with the instruction, "Start making a list of things you want to do in London," she sent back with only two words: "Westminster Abbey." She'd already done all the touristy things before, so WA is the only thing she needed to do. So we did that on Friday and she told me all sorts of things about the architecture and the churches of the time and it was cool. (She's a medievalist...) After that, we hit up a new pub, then I took her around various parts of London. We saw the Twinings store, and then wandered Covent Garden, and made our way over to Soho and finally all the way back down to take the train home. We ordered Indian and ate and drank and enjoyed ourselves immensely.

Saturday (yesterday? Oh, goodness, it was yesterday, phew) we did awesome things. Not that wandering around London isn't awesome (it's one of my favorite activities), but yesterday was even awesomer. First, at 11 am, there was the Oscar Wilde London Tour. Yes. That's right. A man dressed as Oscar Wilde (Alan is the best ever, with a shiny waistcoat and two green carnations in his buttonholes and a bowler hat) took us around Mayfair and the uppity part of London and showed us places where my main man Oscar Wilde frequented.

One of the things I love most about the topics I love (literature, authors, dramatists, actors, literary figures and fictional characters) is that I keep learning new things about them. I've done research papers on Mr. Wilde, I've read most of his works (some, multiple times), I use his epigrams whenever they're relevant (the title of this post is always relevant), but there is so much more to him than I could ever learn. Alan, wrapping up his tour, told us he stumbled into the Wilde family five decades ago and stayed close ever since--and he's admitted even he doesn't know everything about Mr. Wilde. (He was amazing; a real love of his topic, a good voice, contagious smile and bright green eyes that sparkled like I imagine Wilde's would have, like he has a great many secrets and if you ask him nicely, he might tell you one of them, or he might pull your leg.)

After that wonderful two hours finished, we made our way up to Camden Market. The complete opposite of Mr. Wilde's high-falutin' London, Camden is an amazing, amazing place and Jules loved it, thankfully. (Actually, I'm not sure if Wilde would have approved because it's so unique and interesting and interesting people are the only people worth surrounding yourself with...or disapproved because it's not at all high society. It's punks and goths and purple hair and corsets and piercings in places that shouldn't be exposed to the air and it's crazy--his sort of people in spirit, certainly, but not in aesthetic taste.)

A whole afternoon of Camden and we made our way back to Berrylands, where we stopped in at The Berry. I didn't know till we got there that the Chelsea-Munich Champions League Final was last night--so we stayed for that. It was quite the spectacle. Two plates of chips, four pints, and 4-3 goals in extra time later, Chelsea won and the place exploded into cheers and applause and singing. I think Jules and I had more fun watching the crowd than watching the game--and I like football!

Now she is currently on a train back to Wales (for her last week! Eeep!) and I am sitting in my room, sticking my tongue out at the silly need academics have of sourcing material. Sigh. Back to compiling a list of all the places I stole things from.

* Oscar Wilde. One of my absolute favorite of his epigrams. As I said earlier, it's always relevant to my life.

"Art in the blood is liable to take the strangest forms."*

Secondary Title: Adventures in England!

Bella and I met up at Surbiton Station around 10 yesterday morning and hopped on the Southwest Trains service to Guildford. From Guildford, we bought a return ticket to Crowthorne and, since we missed the 11.09, we wandered around Guildford the town for a little while, until the 12.09 train. Guildford is a cute little town, with a shopping mall and a high street and a Wetherspoons on the corner.

12.09 First Great Western train to Crowthorne. We couldn't figure out which way to go from the station; this was a bit of my fault, since I'd looked at the map, but I didn't think to print it out and it looked a lot different. After some dithering this way and that, we walked down Duke's Ride and, instead of continuing on straight like we should have to reach the High Street, we turned left on New Wokingham Road. After a little while of wandering down that way (towards Wokingham and away from Crowthorne), we took a right and followed that and ended up wandering through the suburbs. Cute little place, much different from the suburbs here, more like my street at home. Bigger houses, not connected to each other like the houses here, non-cookie cutter, big lawns. A nice place to raise a family.

Interestingly, most of the houses had their own names, which I thought was really cool. We passed The Whispers and Pinecroft and The Mount, to name just a few. 

Finally, somehow, we made it to Old Wokingham Road and followed it back towards the town. Town to the right, Bracknell Forest to the left, which could come in handy. Took a stroll up the High Street (a few shops, a couple restaurants, two banks, a library and a couple churches) and then back to the pub on the corner of Duke's Ride and High Street. The Prince, nice place, good food.

From there, we followed Upper Broadmoor Road up to the Broadmoor Hospital. On the way up, we passed a hearse and a funeral procession; I'm not sure if it came from the Hospital or beyond. The wiki article described the Hospital as looking like a prison, and it does. High brick walls, a fenced-in field nearby that looked a little mangy...it was cool to get a visual on the setting, but not as exciting as I thought it would be. Still a nice walk, though.

We then made our way back to the train station (which is at the other end of the area; this will have to be fixed in my story) and then back to Guildford and then back to Surbiton.

Things to work out in my story:

+ Train station is far away from the main town
+ Dig site: field next to Hospital? Or nearer to Bracknell Forest?
+ Locals: uneasy, wary? Or invested in the project? Or both?

So that was a fun excursion. Today I'm to finish my sci-fi essay (once and for all!) and then Jules is arriving around dinnertime!

* Title is from the Sherlock Holmes story The Greek Interpreter; Holmes is discussing his brother Mycroft, his mother, and his ancestry from a French painter. It has absolutely nothing to do with this post, but I read an interview yesterday in which the interviewee used this quote and it's been stuck in my head ever since.

Is hail normal for England in the springtime?

So, today did not go as I planned it a couple days ago.

Bella and I were all set to meet up and maybe go to Hampton Court, to talk about the remainder of our time here and just generally hang out. Just as I went for a shower last night, I get a text. "Want to go see the Queen tomorrow?" Say what? "The Queen is gonna be at Richmond Park tomorrow at 2.30."  So we decided that yes, we did want to see the Queen.

This morning, I handed in my Shakespeare essay, returned the books to the library, and topped up my mobile, and I was still early. So I hung about watching a crazy violinist busker, who reminded me of my friend Caleb from high school, until she showed up. We went to get food and I texted Melissa (family friend who's now in London for a little while) that I was going to be in her neck of the woods. We made tentative plans to meet at the carousel (I didn't know where that would be, but sure, let's say the carousel).

Bella and I took the bus to Richmond (oh, adorable! So very stereotypically English) and got off right across from a super-cute-looking pub called the Fox and Duck, which had a string of tiny Union Jacks all across the front. For those unaware, this year is the Queen's Diamond Jubilee--60 years of reigning for QE2. 3 June there will be a flotilla up the river and I'm hoping to head into Kingston to see it and fun stuff is happening all over the place. It's really just an excuse to get together and party. (I've seen a fair few "street party" signs; there's one happening at The Berry, which I might go to)

Anyway, we find the entrance and follow a whole bunch of people who have Union Jack wellies and raincoats and generally seem to be people also going to see the Queen. And as we're walking up the hill--it starts to rain. And then hail. And the path is muddy and I'm trying to balance my brolly in the wind as well as myself in the mud. It sounds awful, but it was actually quite fun.

So we get to the top of the hill and there's a large group of people and a couple policemen. We assume this is the place, but then the bobbies (ha, finally I get to say that!) say this is the queue for the buses to take us down to the actual site. So we keep walking. The rain lessens as we arrive at the center of everything, where three things happen: a guy passing says we've just missed the Queen; Melissa and I find each other; and we learn there's going to be a ballet performance and the Queen will be in attendance.

So we wander through the crowd--a carousel, lots of booths, lots of activities, apparently this was a big deal and I don't even know what it was for, quite honestly. I think Bella said it was a celebration-thing of all the Royal Parks and Richmond is the biggest.--and make our way to the main stage. I'm short and so I can barely see the stage itself and I certainly can't see all the royalty as they make their way to the front of the crowd. I caught a glimpse of Princess Alexandra (I think?) and there were lots of photos taken by Bella and Melissa, both of whom are taller than I. Then finally, the Queen walks by to loads of cheers, and I saw her head!

Just as we were debating what we were to do, the Royal Ballet School starts in on the peasant dance from Swan Lake. I'm terribly excited and even though I can't see all that much, it was still lovely!

As they finish and ballet-run off the stage, it starts to rain. And hail. And blow like a hurricane. Somehow, we make it to the bus queue without any major damage. And then the attendant says that after the one coach leaves, they're shutting this road down, so to go this one way. We decide to go back the way we came, all three of us, on the road their shutting down.

When we get to an intersection in the middle, we learn the reason they've shut the road down: the royal train is coming this way! So we get in line, standing at the edge of the road, cameras in one hand and umbrellas in the other. I didn't manage to get a good picture of the Queen; I got a picture of the front of her Range Rover and the next car that went by. But as I looked up after taking the first picture, the Queen was waving at us! And I totally made eye contact!

I've never really had much interest in the Royal Family; they're royalty and that's cool, but I didn't get up at 5 am to watch Will & Kate's wedding or anything. But it was so cool!

So yeah, that was awesome. Next on the agenda is heading to Crowthorne tomorrow, and dragging Bella with me. Last semester, I started writing a story (I always seem to be starting stories...) and went researching towns close enough to London to justify putting it in the story and also just a cool place to set the scene. I landed on Crowthorne, which has the Broadmoor Psychiatric Hospital, where part of my story is taking place. I just started writing it again, and I figured, I'm here, why not go see it? It's only an hour and a half away, I think, so that should be good. I get to take the train, see a cute little English town, probably hit up a pub and stand outside Broadmoor, then go home. I'm excited.

"It is a hobby of mine to have an exact knowledge of London."*

Today has been a very rad day.

• Took the 11 train into Waterloo, walked around (like I do), passed the Benjamin Franklin house, ended up in a pub in Covent Garden. 
• The Lamb and Flag, which boasts having been there since the days of Charles II and being a favorite watering hole of various poets. Tried a new cider--Addlestone's--which wasn't as good as my usuals.
• Had a good view of a slice of Garrick Street and people coming and going through a little alleyway right next to the pub (I was dying to find out what was through there, so I followed it after lunch) and some flats. Good place for people watching. 
• Followed the little alleyway to Long Acre, the Covent Garden main shopping street; not the plaza, but a shopping street with fairly trendy shops (H&M, for example). Followed it until it turned into Great Queen St., just after Drury Lane. 
• Followed Gt. Queen St all the way to Kingsway, which connects to places I've been before, and then I was back on the Strand, making a giant circle. 
• From there, down to Trafalgar Square for a little while, where I went into Waterstone's (the bookstore) intending to buy a new Moleskine because I'm almost done with my current one...and walked out with a book called London Belongs to Me by Norman Collins. I've only read the preface (about London) and the first chapter and I already adore it. 
• Finally made it to the Wetherspoons on Whitehall that my parents were talking about. I had time to kill before I had to meet my Understanding Britain professor/class for a Very Special Thing, so I took time to have a little Thatcher's Gold and write my journal and pour over my London A-Z.
• I tried to figure out how much of London I haven't seen and it's about as much as I have! Also, Kingston and Surbiton and Berrylands are all in my London A-Z, which I didn't know.
• Walked down Whitehall to Parliament Square and headed across the road to Parliament itself because....
• My UB professor had gotten us a guided tour through the Houses of Parliament! 
• So that was completely awesome. We couldn't see as much as we normally would have, since the session just opened a couple days ago and so some places were out of bounds. But still, I walked through one of the most iconic places, if not the most iconic and important place in London and England and Britain and the former British Empire. Amazing. 
• The sun was still shining when we finished our tour around dinnertime. I walked back across Westminster Bridge and was deciding whether to dawdle and catch the next train or hurryscurry and try to make the 6.30. Ended up saying I'd wait till 7 and chilled on the South Bank for a little while before I realized I was hungry.
• Got a hot dog and a Magners for dinner from the cart and sat on the railing. 
• Ended up missing the 7, which was fine with me, because it was still sunshiney and gorgeous and so I wandered down the South Bank and ended up seeing some fun people doing fun things. Got some more nice shots of the late sun over the Thames.

  Pictures! Yes, I'm still on a b&w kick. Enjoy.

The Eye, Westminster Bridge and Parliament/Big Ben from the Golden Jubilee Bridge




 

Northumberland Ave (straight) and a street I don't know (left) from the steps of the Golden Jubilee Bridge






Flags (in preparation for the Jubilee?) from Leicester Square to Piccadilly



The glorious spire of Big Ben...from inside the grounds of Parliament!



The back of the Eye, near Waterloo Station



*Title a Sherlock Holmes quote, from The Red-Headed League

Things I Love Thursdays!

Right, so, those who don't know my other blog won't know about TILT. Things I Love Thursdays is a thing I picked up from fashion/lifestyle/inspirational blogger Gala Darling and something I have been very lax in doing since I got to Kingston. It's mainly just a list a things that have made you happy for the week, as a way of positive thinking, of putting yourself in a good mood, and of focusing on the good.

I had a very strange day. It won't go down as one of the best I've had here; I can't complain, in that I'm still in England doing things I enjoy, but certain things made me a bit of an unhappy bunny. Talking to Danes made me feel better and so did making this video.

I figured those who don't get regular skype sessions with me might like to see/hear me; rather than just reading my ramblings, you can now experience them in sound and color!

I do realize I'm making a very silly face in the picture; and I do realize I used real names. (Sorry, guys!) But this is my TILT for the week.

Bear with me, I need more tea.

This is me taking a break from my TV final to just to write out my thoughts, figure out things to do for the last few weeks I'm here, and also to let you know what I'm thinking of doing, in case I get too busy to blog about it.

• May 18-20/21, Jules is coming to visit!

• Whenever she leaves, I leave too, to go to Paris for a couple (maybe three) days to visit Lauren.

• When I get back, Bella and I want to do some exploring of England. Thoughts for myself and maybe her, if she wants to do them:

1.  I really want to go visit the North York Moors. 
• Train up to Whitby costs anywhere from 37-57 pounds, depending on the day and on/off peak
• The North Yorkshire Moors Railway looks so freaking cool. Ian, you'll like this: it's a preserved steam railway running through the moors. There's a line that goes Whitby-Pickering (or Pickering-Whitby), takes 1.40, according to the timetable. I'd have to find somewhere to stay, which would possibly be the most expensive part.
2.  Bella wants to do Brighton. That's easily a day trip and sounds fun.
3. I'd like to go down to Devon and go to Torquay, also known as the place where Agatha Christie lived. Probably not as doable.

• I still need to go see Chris Peck and the Family Tree, hopefully on 31 May  

• Christopher Eccleston in Antigone opens 26 May and runs until after I leave

• I need to go on the Oscar Wilde London walk, only on Saturday mornings.

There are more things I want to do, but I'm running out of time and I'm wasting my days trying to get these stupid papers done and not having any motivation whatsoever. I just want to enjoy my time, but it's rapidly dwindling and freaking me out.

Right, back to writing about how commercials sell you the ideology first and the product second. 

Midnight Blogging

Things have happened. I won't guarantee they're all particularly interesting things, but they are things nonetheless and you all like it when I talk about things.

+ The host family was away this weekend and so I had the place to myself. Except at night, when I was terrified of my reflection in all the mirrors and darkened windows in the old, creaky house, it was nice to be alone. I finally felt comfortable. Not that they haven't been the nicest, sweetest host family I could hope for, but I'm essentially invading their house. It's uncomfortable, even if they're super lovely, which they are. Anyway, that was nice. Bella came over on Friday and we ordered pizza and watched Top Gear specials on the On Demand on telly and that was good.

+ Bella and I also went to a special screening of the play Look Back in Anger, starring an actor we like (David Tennant) and an actress I like but haven't seen nearly enough of (Kelly Reilly). It's a truly stunning play and I was incredibly excited when one of the original actors (the second man to play the main character on the stage in the late 50s) came to talk about the play. He didn't say much about the version we were watching, but that's alright, it was still fascinating.

+ The younger daughter of one of my dad's best friends has landed safely in London. Due to things, we haven't been able to meet up, but we shall at some point and I shall welcome her to my city properly.

+ The weather has been bizarre lately (It was incredibly cold this weekend and most days there are fits and starts of rain, tempered with bright sunshine and birds chirping. Odd) and made even more so by my research this evening. I''ve been working on my Shakespeare paper (and by working, I mean, do a bit of research, go on facebook, write 100 words, go on tumblr...) and we must talk about all three plays. Tonight was King Lear, in which there is a truly cool passage about the storm that is raging on the moor. I may not particularly like Lear (the play or the character), but it's a great passage, especially after you've seen Ian McKellen doing it for the RSC performance. So good.

Lear: Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
         You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
         Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!
         You sulph'rous and thought-executing fires,
         Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
         Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
         Strike flat the thick rotundity o'th'world!
         Crack Nature's moulds, all germens spill at once
         That makes ingrateful man!

Of course, it's been lightly pitter-pattering rain and you can hardly call it a storm, let alone a violent rage such as that, but it's still a cool passage.

+ Bella and I are in the midst of deciding more travel plans. I think we've ruled out Malta (don't get me wrong, it'd be cool, but she wanted to go to a beach and I think that's silly, because you can go to beaches anywhere in the states. There are many other places we can't go when we get back home) and we're thinking of traveling around England more. She wants to go to Brighton, I want to go up north, to the moors...we'll figure it out.

+ Slightly disappointing, but I'll figure it out: the National Theatre is screening Frankenstein (starring that actor I like, Benedict Cumberbatch, as both/either the Creature or Victor Frankenstein) in both the UK and the US. Unfortunately, I looked at the dates and the ones in London are after I leave and the ones in New York are before I come back. There are two dates in Boston in late June, though, so maybe I'll see if my parents (who are most likely reading this) want to go? *hem hem*

+ And the most exciting thing, I've saved for last. It's not technically "official," in that the office hasn't sent out the letter to tell me on official letterhead yet, but I will definitely be Denice's research assistant come fall. And, the best part is, I get money for doing it! So yay! That's exciting.

The beginning of the end already?

Perfect weather for such a sentiment. It's not quite raining, but it's not quite dry, and it's rather brisk.

Yesterday was my last Shakespeare class, in which we did a practical acting class and I found that going slow and whispering is so much more threatening than yelling and gesturing wildly. (To be fair, gesturing is something I do generally, it's not an affectation. I sat on my hands and it came out surprisingly well, for all I say I can't think or speak without my hands.)

Today was my last TV class with Ian, which is actually rather sad. I'm not coming back for his Detective TV class in the fall and I'll likely not see him ever again after I leave. This is rather depressing as he's come to be at the same level as Denice (my anthropology prof you've all no doubt heard so much about from me) and Wes, my favorite professors from back home. Almost everything he says is completely fascinating (Shakespeare, etymology, French, literature, fiction as a truth-telling medium, etc), even if I think half of it is BS.

I was supposed to meet with him to talk about ~my future~ (dun dun DUN) after class today, but as the end of the semester is rather busy, instead he gave me his cell number and said, "Send me a text and we'll meet up, you can meet my baby [his 2 year old daughter Venus], have a cup of tea and we can talk about your future." I love it when grown-ups I admire/respect treat me as one of their own, on their level. I've been spoiled by my parents and our family friends; I enjoy being treated as a peer to people who've been out of school longer than I've been alive.

After which, I ended up at the Surbiton Wetherspoons and enjoyed their "Curry Club Thursdays," which is a curry dish, a drink and a cheaper-priced dessert, all for one low price. Chicken Tikka Masala that tasted better than the food from proper Indian restaurants I've had here and Strongbow actually goes really well with Sticky Toffee pudding. Just in case you were wondering.

And now I'm home and about to start work on my TV final essay, which we've been discussing for the past couple weeks. And later today I get to talk to Danes! It's been ages since we could properly Skype and yesterday was our two-year anniversary, yay! ♥

It was a call that was so sublime, but the room is so quiet, oh*

Oh, was it good to be in my City again. Not that it wasn't nice to be there with Lauren or with my family, but it's been just about a month since I've been there by myself. Just me wandering London. And it was so nice to do it again.

I'm starting to wonder if London is somehow sentient. I took a street I know I've never taken (the only path I hadn't trod from the center of Piccadilly Circus) and after a right, then a left, then a split-second decision to go right again, I ended up in a part I've recently been thinking of exploring again (Covent Garden). To be fair, the center part of London isn't that hard to navigate, but I wasn't thinking about where I was going, just walking. And my city spits me out somewhere I've been saying I should go again. The same happened a little later on as I meandered through Soho without knowing exactly where I was--and out I popped at the other end of the street I started on. I'm just saying, maybe the City knows where I need to be, even if I'm not consciously thinking it.

I spent at least two hours sitting in Trafalgar Square, thinking and writing and people-watching and taking pictures. I went on a bit of a black-and-white photo kick, actually. I took a lot of b&w pics of iconic places. And a lot of videos. I'm thinking about editing the videos together into a love letter to my city when I'm back this summer. Should be fun.

Piccadilly Circus

One side of Trafalgar Square, looking towards the Strand and Northumberland Ave

This is really cool. My book Secret London: An Unusual Guide says it's Britain's smallest police station. "Allegedly, the secret police box was installed by Scotland Yard in 1926 so that the cops could keep an eye on the demonstrators and agitators who routinely gathered in Trafalgar Square (still London's most popular protest site)."

Sitting on the rim of one of the fountains, looking back at the National Gallery

Who's that cool cat in the aviator shades in a black-and-white photo?

The Eye from Westminster Bridge

Parliament and Westminster Bridge from down near the Eye

I think I definitely like b&w much better than the colour setting. You may be missing the candy-apple red double deckers and the contrast between the buses and the black cabs, but most of my b&w photos turned out awesome and classy. Whereas, in colour, you can see all the imperfections that an amateur photographer with a sometimes-many-clicks camera has in her pictures.

What a lovely day. And now to sleep and spend all tomorrow studying for my oral Arabic final tomorrow evening. What fun. Wish me luck!


* Everyone should go listen to Breath of Life, the new Florence + the Machine song. The song is quintessential Flo, powerful and building and crashing down into nothing only to build again. Beautiful. But you guys should know what I'm going to say: the lyrics. The lyrics are amazing. Everything. It's so intense and perfect.

Hello all! -waves-

Sorry I haven't had much to say. It's not that things haven't been happening, it's just I haven't had much to say.

My list that says To Blog goes like this:
- finish Venice story


And that's it. So while I have gone and seen the Avengers with Bella and I have hung out in Camden and watched the sun go down over my City from the top of Primrose Hill with Lauren and while I have done the fun kind of research for a paper, I don't know how much of that is particularly interesting. Apparently, my idea of this blog has changed. It used to be "random thoughts while in England" and then it changed to "tell an interesting story about being in England." And while hanging out with friends is fun, I guess it doesn't qualify as a proper story you're all waiting with baited breath to hear?

Anyway, the weather recently has been properly English. Not just grey and drizzly, oh no, but downpours that are over in a flash and then come back as soon as you think it's going to be a nice day. But today, my friends, the sun is shining bright and warm into my little attic room and I am going to look over my Arabic and then skedaddle into Central. Because it has been too long since I wandered there on my own and because it's a gorgeous day and because I can, really.

Toodle-loo!

Recent happenings in my life: Oxford, Stratford-upon-Avon, old friends and Britishness

I was here and then I was gone again and now I'm back. Phew, this month has been a whirlwind and it's not slowing down anytime soon, though the next few weeks will be more about school and less about the big, wide world. (Read: boring)

On Sunday, I met up with an old dance friend of mine in Oxford. Well, she's not in Oxford, she's actually been studying in Paris for the year, but she's touring England for the week and was staying with some friends in Oxford. We wandered around Oxford (such a lovely town!) for the day, went to some cute shops, hung out in a pub while it hailed (yes, it hailed. I don't know what's going on with the weather lately. It's been super weird) and then I showed her the first two episodes of Sherlock. (That was all we had time for by the time we got back to her place and stopped gabbing)

Monday saw us rise bright and early so that we could make our ways (she took the bus and I the train) to Stratford-upon-Avon, the birth and death place of one Mr William Shakespeare...whose birthday it was. My hour-ish train ride saw a beautifully, quintessentially English landscape: wide, green pastures broken only in the distance by the occasional old house or row of trees, set against a huge sky of deep greys. Most people don't like grey skies; bright blue with sun and a few wispy white clouds is usually the sight that fills people with joy. It's very pretty, certainly, but it's not my favourite. There's not enough contrast, not enough to interest my eye and my brain. My grey clouds, they're rarely monotonous, even though everyone seems to think they are. There are so many different shades, so many different shapes the layers can make. It's absolutely gorgeous to me. And it stayed like that for most of the day, patches of sunshine but mostly a chilly English day. A perfect backdrop for celebrating Billy Shakes' birthday.

She arrived earlier than I did and when we were there a couple weeks ago (the Williams' + co and I), I'd already seen the Birthplace. So she did that and we met in the gift shop, where we bought matching pocket Much Ado About Nothings, tiny blue leather things that mean a lot for both of us. (It's our favorite play, something we found out as part of a list of surprisingly similarities). After that, we were in desperate need of food, so we stopped into the Windmill Inn (another place I'd gone with the family). Which was delicious, again.

We didn't have much time after that, however, so we spent the rest of it at that most sacred of places in the town, his grave. Talk about a spiritual experience! The church was beautiful, we paid our mandatory donation (2 pounds for adults, another number for seniors, 50p for students, yay!) and walked past the gift shop and the kids' corner and headed straight for the altar at the back. I could tell exactly which was his; it was the one completely covered in flowers from the festivities this past weekend. Hundreds of bouquets (mostly tulips, like the ones gracing my desk right now) obscuring everything but the plaque on the step above stating that this was the grave of William Shakespeare, famous poet.

We took pictures and sat on the step. Lauren had a flower she wanted to present, but it had to be the right moment or something. I didn't have a gift, but I wanted to read something. We had our Much Ados and she also bought R&J and Hamlet, but we didn't realize until that moment that our Much Ados had sonnets in the back. I read through some and, though it's not perfectly fitting, I settled on Sonnet 19, murmuring it to myself. Lauren asked that I read it as she threw her flower and, partly because of the church setting and partly because I was in front of William Shakespeare's grave, I read it in a hushed, cracking voice. It was magical.

Our time up, we walked quickly by New Place, where she took pictures, and to the bus station. (She was to leave about an hour and a half before I, so I was going to make sure she got back alright and then wander a little more). We waited for her bus...and waited. And waited. Until finally, half an hour after the bus was supposed to arrive and take her to Oxford, where she was to board a train to take her to a family friend's place in Central London, the other guy waiting for the bus called and we found out it was due to be an hour and 47 minutes late.

So, cold and wet and grumpy, we went to the train station and got her tickets to come back with me. And then from Oxford, I took my own train back to London Paddington. It wasn't the best turn of events (Lauren's travels have all subscribed to Murphy's Law, lately), but it was a very, very good day.

And the wonderfully, deliciously English cap to the day: not only did I mainly subsist on tea all day (a regular tea, white, which means milky, and a "cheers" when it's handed to me--oh, I'm starting to fit in here), but I had a half hour wait for my train at Waterloo Station back home, so I finally bought a Cornish pasty and oh, was it good. So I was sat at Waterloo Station, one of the hubs of London transport, eating a pasty and drinking tea. I felt so delightfully English, I can't explain it.

And then today, I found out that not only could I buy a cd of an artist I like for only 7 pounds at Sainsbury's, but they also have individual portions of Sticky Toffee Pudding. Which, if you don't know, is basically pure sugar and is the most delicious pudding (or dessert) I have had here.

I will finish up the story of Venezia soon, but I'm back to classes now and the first part of my Arabic final is on Thursday and so, who knows when I will get to it. But I will.

Italia! Part 1 1/2: Roma and Venezia!

+ For our last day in Rome, we hit up the Vatican, which was amazing. First was St. Peter's Basilica and I could've spent all bloody day in there, so absolutely gorgeous was it. And then we made our way through the insane tourist crowds to the Sistine Chapel. Oh, my. It wasn't the same as my reaction to the Hagia Sophia, but oh, was it so very, very amazing to see. Another moment I was keenly aware that I was standing inside history.

Though, I must admit to a little bit of, hmm, blasphemy? Because whilst standing in the Sistine Chapel, looking up at the beautiful art in the hushed silence, I started to think of this Eddie Izzard clip and nearly burst out giggling: "Michaelangelo, a painter and a decorator. And when the Pope said, (Italian accent) "Michaelangelo, I want you to paint the Sistine Chapel." He said, (working class accent) "Yeah, no problem. I'll use these rollers, I'll do it in beige… uh, stipple effect you know, and two days we'll be sorted." "No, you get me wrong. I want a picture with the Holy Father, the Jesus Christ and lots of little fat kids with wings."

Trust me, it's very funny.

+ Anyway, we ended up chilling in the courtyard at the Vatican Museum for a couple hours and then wandering back to Flaminio via the bridge by Castel San Angelo and up next to the river. A very nice walk.

+ Then to the bus we took from the airport, but this time going to Fiumancio Airport, rather than Ciampinio, so it was a longer journey and we were cutting it very, very close. Bella didn't seem to care, but I was biting my nails the whole time.

Apparently, and this might shock you all, I am a worrier. I like leaving plenty of time and I like knowing what I'm doing and I like having a contingency plan in case something goes wrong. I guess I'm more like my father (the planner) and my grandmother (the worry-wart) than I knew. :P

But of course, we made it just on time and we were fine and we touched down in Venezia around 10-ish. Bus to Piazzle Roma (I like that in Rome it was Piazza Venezia and in Venice it was Piazzale Roma; we couldn't escape the other while we were in each.) and then waterbus (boat!) down to our stop (Zitelle) and our hostel.

We slept deeply that night, if not well because of the many high school groups in the rooms who were very excitable indeed.

Next up: Venezia!

Italia! Part One: Roma!

I'm surprising myself with my promptness in writing this up. I arrived home in early afternoon yesterday and chilled out for the rest of the day. Today I was lazy for the morning, but am currently in the Surbiton Wetherspoons with a full belly and a cider in hand. And so, Italy.

Pardon, this write-up may be a bit choppy. I tried to write everything that happened down at the end of each day, but this is translated directly from my journal, so it's still a bit note-like.

Roma! -Day One (Saturday)

+ Bella and I met up in Central late on Friday the 13th and then made our way to Stansted Airport. Remind me never to go via Stansted again. It's a little bit sketchy and a lot inconvenient to get to. Though, to be fair, Heathrow is also not terribly convenient to get at. It's just generally weird to get from where we are to an airport. But once at Stansted, we got some food around midnight and then curled up for a couple hours sleep. Of course, we were curled up on the cold, hard floor, so it was less than ideal, but it was sleep and I needed it. At about 3 am, we woke up to check in and go through security for our 5.40 boarding time. Luckily, there was a Starbucks on the other side of security, so I grabbed a vanilla latte. We were surprisingly chipper for the ungodly hour and so little sleep.

+ Ryanair is a jerk. Not only are the sketchy (they're the cheapest flight for a reason...), but their standards for carry-on (only one piece, not one and a personal bag, but only one, and a very, very small one piece at that) meant that I had to pay an exorbitant amount at the gate to put it in the hold. Stupid Ryanair. Luckily, the other two flights we had (neither with Ryanair), I had already paid to put one bag in the hold, so I was set.

+ Had a not terribly interesting flight, touched down in Rome at 9.40 local time (8.40 London time and 3.40 am home time). Italy has the easiest security-and-baggage-claim I have ever been to. We were out, with a bus ticket to Termini Station, the hub for getting from the airport to the city, by 10.07. Got on the 10.45 bus, hit up Termini, in the middle-left of Rome, by 11.15 or so.

+ Managed to navigate the crowds (omg, Italians do not know how to queue! They're one giant quivering mob of pushy limbs and loud voices in languages I do not understand), the Metro system, Metro tickets and getting off at the right stop all on 3 hrs of sleep, no food, and with luggage. I was inordinately proud of this feat, given that I get cranky only one of the three, not to mention being in a new place where I don't know anything that's happening around me. Got off the Metro at Flaminio, which we quickly found out was the hub of central Rome, and took the overground to Prima Porta, where we waited for the free shuttle bus to our hostel.

+ Our hostel, Tiber Hostel and Camping, was just that: both a hostel and a campground. Which was a little strange, but not as strange as what we found out after we checked in: the rather swanky restaurant on the grounds ended up being the best food we had all trip. Our first meal in Italy was (for me) a proper Italian cappuccino and spaghetti with tomato sauce, smothered in cheese and real tomato chunks. It was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted. I would say that's an overstatement, because I was so hungry and just in need of food, but no. A second meal (dinner the next night) with a different choice of food proved to be just as, if not more, delicious.

+ After our late lunch, we got back on the overground, back to Flaminio, and back on the metro to the stop Repubblica, where Bella led us to a bookstore she'd read about on a list of the 13 best bookstores around the world. Among the notable interesting things was a travel moleskine (I love moleskine journals and this was created specifically with world travelers in mind) and Claude Levi-Strauss (a famous anthropologist) in Italian.

+ We continued walking and ended up at Piazza Venezia, at a giant monument built by [insert famous Italian name that I can't remember here] which also housed their own Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.

+ From there, up Via del Corso, the big main road in Central Rome. Lots of shopping and tourist stuff. Very cool.

+ Up to Piazza del Popolo (where the Flaminio station lets out) then over to a side street where we found delicious pizza (margherita, mmmm) and our waite, a nice older man who wanted to show off his city. He took a look at our maps and pointed out all the best sites to hit. Very sweet and cool. And after that, gelato! Mmmm, Nutella and chocolate chip (stracciatella)!

+ Took a walk to the Tiber River with our gelato, at which point I turned to Bella and said, "you know, this reminds me of the first time I walked across the Thames [this semester]." And she said, "disappointing?" Yeah, that was it. The Tiber River is a bit like the Thames in that it's dirty and less impressive than you think. Still nice, just a bit of an "...oh" moment.

+ After that we took all our transport back to the hostel and crashed for the night.


Roma!- Day Two (Sunday)

+ We ignored Bella's alarm enough that it finally turned itself off and so I woke up a couple times, but dozed pretty much all morning, before eventually rising around 11.30. We had no plans and we had no sleep, so I thought we were entitled to a lazy morning.

+ Got into Flaminio around 1, set off in search of food, and ended up at the Pantheon. Which is gorgeous. We didn't go inside, but we bought take-away panini (and cappuccinos, yum) and sat in the piazza and people-watched.

+ Walked across to Piazza Navona next (a very pretty marketplace with paintings I nearly bought for myself--a ballerina fixing her pointe shoes--and mama--a field of sunflowers and an Italian villa in the background), then wandered down Corso Vittorio Emanuele II to a bridge, from which we could see the very impressive Castel San Angelo. It was once a fortress and a castle and a place where the pope could escape the confines of Vatican City (down one long walkway straight to St Peter's Basilica) and is now primarily for tourists.

+ Across the river, down Via Della Lungara to Via Garibaldi. Yes, I know he's a famous figure in Italian history, but all I can think of is Daffy Duck, a bald head, and "Meeester Garibaldi!" from Babylon 5. Anyway, we found our way up to a monastery to a beautiful, beautiful sight of all of Rome spread out beneath us. We were on Janiculum Hill, an important place in Italian historyhe sight of a very, very bloody battle, and one of the seven hills of Rome. It was raining and cloudy and gross, weather-wise, but it didn't matter because the view was amazing.

+ After which, of course, we promptly got lost. In the rain. In the residential area of Rome that wasn't even on our map. After panicking and going through my internal monologue that hates being lost, it was actually pretty cool.

+ Took the train from Roma Trastevere (which wasn't even on our map...) to Rome Termini and then took all our public transport to our hostel, where we had another swanky dinner. (2 sangrias! Spaghetti with bacon in the tomato sauce! Tiramisu! Tottenham v Chelsea on telly!) and then to bed again.


Roma! -Day Three (Monday)

+ In to Rome by 8.30 am, breakfast at a cafe down Corso: a Nutella cornetti (kind of like a croissant) and a cappuccino.

+ A three hour bicycle tour around Rome. I was a little (okay a lot) nervous at first, since it's been a least 4 years since I've been on a bike and the drivers (and pedestrians!) in Rome are completely and totally bonkers. But it ended up being a lot of fun, even if I went a bit white-knuckley in a couple places. We saw a couple sights we'd already been to (the Pantheon and Piazza Navona, for example), but then we hit the big sights in both old and modern Rome (the Colosseum is amazing and I wish we could've gone inside, but we had a timetable; and the Trevi Fountain, into which both Bella and I threw a coin the proper way: backwards, over our left shoulders with our right hands) and it was really, really awesome to see the city. I have an insane respect for bicyclists now, especially in big cities.

+ Made our way to the Spanish Steps and walked a ways amongst the expensive shops (Armani! Chanel! I actually touched a pair of Chanel pumps and just about died). I don't know why women are so masochistic when it comes to pretty things we can't afford.

+ Sat on the Spanish steps, in the sunshine, for a few hours. She read her book, I people-watched and wrote a bit. On our right was a tearoom that we had a very late afternoon tea in (Babbington's. Expensive, but worth it) and on our left was the Keats-Shelley museum with a plaque proclaiming this is the spot where John Keats died at age 25 and next to a sign that just said Byron and had no explanation. It was amazing. I love it, centers of art and culture that have lasted for centuries and will continue to do so for centuries more.

While I'm thinking of it, here have Benedict Cumberbatch reading Ode to a Nightingale, by Keats. Come drown in the beauty of it, like I am.


Next up: Tuesday, which was half Rome and half Venice, and then two full days in Venice!