The Black Cab Chronicles

T.S. Eliot: The Vocabulary for Love Within a Family

2010-04-21T16:52:00.000-07:00

Hello again chums! This message is brought to you by the letter F! F is for: Family Fun! That’s right, 3 of the 4 remaining Jardons scuttled over the pond the other week and paid yours truly a visit! It was so lovely to see them, and I was so excited to show them just how well I’ve adapted to living here and how much I knew about London. Leading up to their arrival, I gave them all kinds of insider tips and things to do while I was at work, plus they were spending Easter weekend with me, so while I was painfully jealous that my second family (Megan, Allie, Ally, and Alex-you know the gang by now I hope) had toddled off to Paris and Berlin for the break, Family the 1st swooped in and saved me from a very lonely holiday.

On the day they arrived, they started with a nap and then we decided to get out and do something British. So we got Italian food. Scold me all you want, but it was a crazy tourist weekend, what with the resurrection of Christ coming up and all. Our next move was to Harrods, where I showed them everything from the Egyptian escalator to those snuggly (and unbearably expensive) little puppies on the top floor. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, look back into the archives of this here blog and take a peek. That night we also made a late night trip to the V&A, which ranks as one of the nicest and most well-filled museums I’ve seen in London. You’ll see a few of those pictures later.

The next morning was devoted to British writers. Clearly my parents will support my interests, no matter how embarrassing and nerdy they are. Our first stop of the day was Westminster Abbey, which was my number one “return to” spot from my last trip here. As we waited in the ridiculous Holy Saturday line, I was giddy at the thought of what was to come. Upon entrance, I basically zoomed through the rest of the building, stopping briefly at the graves of Queen Elizabeth I and Mary Queen of Scots, until I came upon every English major’s dream: Poet’s Corner. Every writer, poet, playwright and generally awesome human being is buried or memorialized in this tiny niche of the cathedral. While I couldn’t take pictures to show you, I can tell you that I’ve decided exactly where I want to be buried: right next to Sir Laurence Olivier and below William Shakespeare’s memorial. Just a cozy little spot among the greatest humans to ever live!

I also got to see Britain’s oldest door, so….yeah…be jealous.

The fam

Next on our journey through the wonderful world of literature was Charles Dickens’ house and museum. Not my favorite stop; their collections of Dickens related paraphernalia was a little disjointed and displayed pretty randomly, and his house was not particularly unique or impressive, but as usual, knowing that Dickens himself used to stand in those same rooms was really cool. Some highlights were the library of his novels and the outfit he wore to meet Queen Victoria.

We had a quick spot of tea at Bea’s of Bloomsbury, which was adorable…

…and then we headed to our final literary destination of the day: the home of the world’s most famous detective-221b Baker St. I told you I’d get to the Sherlock Holmes Museum! We may have gotten a little lost on the bus on the way there, but it ended up being a fun blessing because we stumbled upon Abbey Road and got to take a quick peak at Abbey Road Studios. We finally made it back to Baker St. and headed into the museum. Let me tell you something about the Sherlock Holmes Museum: if you people thought I was a dork, Sherlock Holmes fans have raised the bar. Each room was decorated to the exact specifications noted in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s stories, complete with bullet holes in the wall and the violin Holmes was known to play. There were also some creepy wax statues of all of Holmes’ villains and even a display of the letters written by real people to Sherlock Holmes in the hope that he would come solve their mysteries. He’s a fictional character, people. Relax. He’s not coming to help you discover where your cat goes at night (example from a real letter, I kid you not).

It was time to head back to South Kensington, but my Mom and sister and I needed to make one more stop to the Victoria and Albert museum to finish up the highlights tour. We saw some really beautiful furniture and silver, and a really neat display on snuffboxes. We just barely made it through the amazing exhibit on jewelry when they started kicking us out.

Silver lace

We awoke to a lovely Easter Sunday, which I’ll just cover for you briefly because I wouldn’t want to steal the thunder on Jesus’ big day, now would I.

-Got dressed and headed to Easter Mass at the Oratory. Pretty sweet.

-Brunch at Babylon, a very fancy restaurant on Kensington High St. There were flamingos.

-Nap at the hotel

-I actually don’t remember what else we did, but I’m sure it was just lovely.

The next day was the first of two Jardon clan daytrips outside of London. This excursion was merely a train ride away to Brighton, an absolutely gorgeous beach town in southern England. Imagine San Francisco where everyone has an adorable accent. That’s what Brighton is like. It was a gorgeous day, although really windy, and when we got off the train we walked straight down a hill to the beach. I had completely forgotten what the ocean looked like not from an airplane window, so it was really nice to breathe in some salty Atlantic air and listen to seagulls. The boardwalk was full of shops and bars and restaurants, and there were hundreds of people riding bikes and walking dogs all along the coast.

We made our way down to the pier which is highly reminiscent of Santa Monica pier (could I have discovered the original California?) and then we decided to head to Brighton’s second most popular feature, The Royal Pavilion. The summer oasis of Charles II, this palace looks like nothing else in all of England. It was full of opulent furniture and decorations, including a 1 ton chandelier and a “music room”. But most stunning of all was the architecture. Let’s have a little look, shall we?

Day excursion #2 was to Shakespeareland! No, I’m not talking about a Shakey-themed amusement park, although it might as well have been considering how many times I almost peed in my pants with excitement. I’m talking about Stratford-upon-Avon, hometown of the world’s most wonderful writer and all around great guy. Our first stop, when we got off the train, was Shakespeare’s birthplace. Don’t even get me started on how excited I was. But what is it with these amazing historical sites and no photos? Here are a few I did manage to captcha.

We made a few brief stops at Shakespeare’s dad’s house and his family friends’ houses, and we passed by where Shakespeare went to school, and then finally, it was time for the moment I’ve been waiting for all my life. I got to see Shakespeare’s grave. I got to be in the same room- in the same air- as Shakespeare himself. I’m actually getting goosebumps just thinking about it. A moment of silence please.

A quick stop at “Othello’s” for lunch (I swear, the whole town revolves around my main man), and then began the mile long hike to Anne Hathaway’s house. Not “Devil Wears Prada” Anne Hathaway, Shakespeare’s wife Anne Hathaway. She has the most adorable little cottage at the end of a long walking trail, with and adorable garden and some really beautiful willow arbors. It looked like a fairytale.

The next day I had to get back to my internship, and my family had some other adventures planned on their own, but we met up each night for a dinner and a show, the likes of which are another whole post to themselves. More than anything about these 10 days, I loved spending time with my family and sharing everything I’ve learned with them, even if they can be more than a little nuts. And I’m sure they’re giddy with excitement knowing that they’ve made it onto the now infamous Black Cab Chronicles. Hello family, I know you’re out there! I’ll see you again soon! But next, off to Amsterdam!

Joan Littlewood: Oh! What a Lovely War

2010-04-18T16:08:00.000-07:00

I know, I know. I've been away for far too long and you've missed me and my witty musings terribly. I've been overwhelmingly busy with work and class, and just barely squeezing in the things I write about on the weekends, let alone actually writing about them. I'm sorry I left you with nothing to read, but I promise I'll never make you worry like that again. To make up for it, I'm gonna bang out a bunch of posts, so just prepare yourself for that.

This post is dedicated to those two brutally opposing forces, war and civility. Fitting title, eh? I know, I am that good. Back in March, Londontown was blessed with a guest appearance by the one and only Katie Boland, so of course we had to go a wee bit crazy. On the night she arrived, we decided to take some of her London-y advice and go to one of her favorite clubs, Mahiki. It was Polynesian themed, and the one thing that stands out more than anything about it: how good it smelled. Random, but very true. Here are some highlights from that evening:

-Katie Boland got into a dance off. There was some booty popping.

That's really the only highlight, but it made my night.

The next day, Megan, Allie, and I decided to mozy on over the Churchill War Rooms. We decided we needed a little testosterone in the mix and brought with us the one and only Craig Strauss. When we finally got there, after getting only very briefly lost (it's OK Megan, we forgive you), we went into the museum. It completely blew my mind. Definitely one of my favorite museums. Everything is left exactly how it was when the war ended and everyone just got up and went home. We saw everything from Churchill's private telephone to the sugar stash in one of the drawers. Here are some photos:

The structure of the bunker

The different thumbtacks used to mark movement

The bed Churchill used to nap in

That night we met back up with Katie, who brought us to her posh Notting Hill flat, where we dined on Thai food and snuggled on a sofa watching The Departed. It was during this evening that we all realized how much we missed being in a REAL HOUSE with furniture that isn't on wheels.

The next day we decided it was time for a real, official, high tea. It was an absolutely gorgeous day, so we strolled over to Hyde Park and met up with Katie at The Orangery at Kensington Palace. The light through the windows basically made the whole room glow and the tea and sandwiches we had were scrumptious. It was just a completely lovely afternoon, although we all felt like superdorks taking so many pictures of what we were eating. Here’s a smattering of those:

Sadly, after that splendid weekend, Katie had to return to the states, and we had to carry on with our normal lives, going to work four days a week, class once a week. Not a terribly exciting weekend, but definitely a wonderfully pleasant one.

Lewis Carroll: Adventures in Wonderland

2010-03-07T14:15:00.000-08:00

With the release of Tim Burton's "Alice in Wonderland" happening this week (which I have yet to see) and the recent discoveries I have made about London simply by wandering through the streets, I can't help feeling like I've just fallen through a rabbit hole into a whole new London I didn't even know was there.

On Sunday, Megan, Allie, Lauren, and I decided to go to the British Museum. We got there with only an hour left before it closed, so we hurried straight to see the Rosetta Stone. None of us had realized how big it is and how itty bitty the writing is, so the significance of this big ole hunk of rock was made clear to all of us. We then headed upstairs to the Egyptian halls where we saw mummified...everything. People, of course, but also cats, alligators, falcons, eels, etc. Creepy? Yes. Fascinating? Double yes.

We also got to see one of the Bog People. I had learned about these ancient Britons who had been found in bogs throughout the British Isles in my English class in the earlier part of the semester. Seamus Heaney describes them in a series of poems, and after learning about them I really wanted to see what he was talking about. They're different from other preserved bodies becuase the pressure of the bog and peat has flattened them out, and the peat has turned their skin a purpley color. Most of them still have hair too, and they really just look like they fell asleep. It's eerie, especially when paired with the fact that no one knows why they are there. This was generally a pretty creepy trip, as you can see.

After all that death and rotting, the only thing we could think about, of course, was food. It struck us suddenly: we've never had a traditional English tea? We decided to have a little tea party in the British Museum, which was very lovely.

On Tuesday, my boss told me to just skip work because there wasn't really much for me to do, so I decided skip across the Thames and just enjoy the perfect weather along the South Bank. While I felt more than a little lonely just wandering along the Riverwalk without my little London family, it was really really nice to just be inside my own head for a while and people watch. I got off at the Westminster tube stop and meandered across the river, stopping along the way to watch a bagpiper and to take some photos of the river views. When I got across the water, I walked past the London Aquarium and the London Eye. Being in this area reminded me of the last time I was in London. I was much younger, and my family and I stayed just behind the Aquarium. Being there, along the river, was what first made me fall in love with London, and I swore to myself I would be back there some day. It's surreal to think that I had no idea of the amazing experience I'd be having now, years down the road, that I would actually keep that promise to myself.

As I walked along the riverside, I saw the dozens of street performers who stand like statues or who dance and play music and sing. I kept going, watching the other people watch the performers, and eventually came upon the famous skate park. It's covered in graffiti, as if the light got caught in this small covered cave and bounced around like a prism. Despite London being filled with famous museums and artwork, this is one of my favorite displays of art in the city.

I walked all the way down the river as far as I could go, until just before the Globe. I turned back around and decided to get some food at the restaurant that's connected to the BFI, as I had planned to see a movie there later. Outside the restaurant, there was a book market being set up, so I decided to peruse. One of my worst habits is not being able to leave a book store without buying something, so of course I walked away with something to read on the tube ride home.

Then it was finally time for my movie. The BFI is a huge building where they play all kinds of movies at all times of the day. There are current titles and classics, art films and blockbusters, and they have special events all the time celebrating different actors and directors. I had decided to go see Bright Star which is about the love story of John Keats and Fanny Brawne. It was absolutely stunning and I left the theater sniffling and wiping my eyes, feeling extremely single. Go see it. It's incredible.

Our next excursion was to Camden. We touched a wallaby.

What? You want more? How is that not enough for you? WE TOUCHED A WALLABY! How is that not the coolest thing ever? Alright. Well since you must know, Camden was full of other cool stuff too. There are just thousands of stalls selling everything from clothing to jewelry to shoes and it's all really cheap. We are definitely heading back to do some real shopping, because it was a little too cold to be outside for too long. We were also all tempted to come away with an extra peircing, just to say we were punks and rebels like the majority of people there, but we decided we love our parents too much to torture them with that. But there's still time...

We dined on some delicious chocolate and banana crepes and of course made an exotic new friend (I'm talking about the wallaby), and then decided to head home. Overall it was a very pleasant week that brought me into some very surreal situations, but isn't that what being in a foreign country is all about? Feeling like you're living in Wonderland?

Dante: Purgatorio

2010-03-01T17:54:00.000-08:00

WARNING: THIS IS A VERY LONG POST. DO NOT START READING THIS IF YOU HAVE SOMEWHERE TO BE IN THE NEXT HOUR. ALSO WHEN READING, TAKE FREQUENT BREAKS AND DRINK PLENTY OF FLUIDS. GOTTA STAY HYDRATED YOU KNOW. OK. HERE WE GO. BRACE YOURSELF.

After my whirlwind adventure through Italia this past week, the only title that seemed fitting was one that truly encapsulated the highs and lows we all experienced and how we existed somewhere between heaven and hell. Don’t get me wrong, Italy was absolutely incredible, but some of us got to enjoy it more than others. But we’ll get to that.

The week started…rather suddenly. Megan and I woke up at 6am-which is the time our ride came to pick us up. I’ve never gotten dressed so fast in my life. But we made it to the car and headed to Gatwick for our flight to Venice. After a few hours of cramped sleep on the plane, we were awoken by the pilot announcing that we should all look out our windows. When we did, we saw the most gorgeous view of the Alps anyone could ask for. I have never wanted to be thrown from a plane so badly, so that I could land in the mountains and frolic. So beautiful.

We landed, and after some experimenting with Venetian public transportation and the labyrinthine streets, we made it to our hostel. We put down our stuff, grabbed some lunch, and began our trek to find the hub of Venetian life (and tourism), Piazza San Marco. Along the way, we were constantly reminded by the layer of confetti covering the streets that we had just barely missed the biggest holiday in all of Venice-dom, Carnival. We arrived in Piazza San Marco to discover that not all of the equipment from Carnival was taken down, so we got to see a little bit of what the night must have been like. We decided to walk through the Doge’s Palace on the Grand Canal, and we saw some lovely ceilings, some cool armor, and we walked across the Bridge of Sighs, where those going to prison or to get executed got their last look at the outside world.

Next we headed through some of the streets to seek out our first dose of gelato. We also wandered in and out of shops selling walls upon walls of Murano glass and Venetian lace. There were Carnival masks and costumes in every shop, and we all managed to find something pretty to bring home.

Of course, no trip to Venice would be complete without a ride on a gondola! We did some hard bargaining and got in a very teetery gondola with a gondolier who pretty much sat on Allie’s head to get to his station on the back of the boat. While it wasn’t the most comfortable boat ride I’ve ever taken, it was really quiet and mysterious, and we got to see some of the little streets and canals. It was completely serene and I felt like I was in a movie.

The next morning, we had a quick breakfast in our hostel with Megan’s sorority sister/ roommate, Katherine, and then we headed to the train station for our next stop, Florence.

We showed up after a very quick and picturesque train ride, and after a mishap involving Lauren’s passport, a McDonald’s, and some Italian policemen, we finally headed to our hostel. It was pretty wonderful, with a courtyard, a huge shower, and 2- count ‘em, 2- monkey blankets on each bed. Being reassured that we wouldn’t freeze that night, we headed right back out to find THE DUOMO. It’s right in the heart of the city and all of a sudden you see this huge dome looming over the streets. Right next-door is the Baptistry, featuring Ghiberti’s famous bronze doors. We wandered around inside the cathedral that the Duomo sits on top of, called Santa Maria del Fiore Cathedral, and then we scoured the surrounding area for the perfect gelato place. We accidentally paid 8 euros for a few scoops, but despite the stupid high prices, it was still delicious.

We then went to the Accademia in search of Michelangelo’s David. Tucked into a tiny museum, it towers over everything, and even after a 20 minute wait to get in, it was still pretty impressive. The detailed musculature and sheer scale of it were hard to wrap your head around, and watching the art students scattered around the floor using it as a model was really fun to watch. We may or may not have snuck a few forbidden pictures. Whoops…

The final tourist stop of the day was the San Lorenzo leather market. So. Cool. This little street is lined with hundreds of stalls selling wallets, purses, gloves, jackets, you name it, all made of leather. I made my first major purchase of the trip and splurged on a really, really nice leather jacket, which I haggled down to less that 100 euros. I was really proud of myself. And I look pretty sweet in it.

We went home, had some free pasta at our hostel, and then headed out to meet up with Lauren’s friend, Thea, from school. She took us to an aperitivo, where, if you buy one drink you get as much food as you want. So, so delicious. We walked along the River Arno, which was gorgeous at night, to a bar called Moyo, where it was disco night. I had a delicious drink called a Banana Moyo, which I must learn how to make, and then we decided to call it a night.

This is where the tragedy of my tale begins. In the middle of the night, Megan was stricken with illness, and was incapacitated for the whole next day. Not having her as we headed out for our final day in Florence was so upsetting, and we felt like there was a gap in our little family. Onward we pressed, sans one, and we headed to the Ponte Vecchio during the day. The minute you walk onto the bridge you are almost blinded by sparkly gold jewelry, and you are instantly reminded that you are a lowly, poor college student. But a girl can dream, can’t she?

We crossed over the bridge and found an adorable gift shop where we made a few significantly less expensive purchases, and then headed to the Palazzo della Signoria and the Palazzo Vecchio. Out in the courtyard is just a garden of marble and bronze statues, including a knockoff of the David. I couldn’t find the statue I had wanted to see of Judith and Holofernes (I don’t know how it’s possible to miss a huge bronze statue, but somehow I managed), so I guess my memories from my Art History textbooks will have to suffice.

We made our way into the palace where the Medici family pretty much ran Florence. Essentially we were walking through the house of the original Italian mob. There were some pretty amazing rooms where they held meetings, and walls covered in frescoed maps.

When we came outside it was raining, so we scurried across the piazza and headed into a restaurant with a great lunch deal. Afterwards, we trudged through the rain to the Basilica di Santa Croce, outside of which stands a gigantic statue of Dante, who is basically a Florentine national hero. I let my inner Lit dork escape and took one or two...dozen… pictures in front of it. But I refuse to apologize. It was neat. And since everyone else in our merry band of travelers refused to visit his house, this was the closest I would get to being in his presence. Or was it?

Inside is where some of the greatest Italians of all time are buried. It was like the Renaissance red carpet for dead people. Unfortunately, the jackhammering going on every 5 seconds constantly interrupted the peace of the church, and Dante’s grave was obscured by tarps and scaffolding, but we did get to see the graves of Machiavelli, Michelangelo, and Galileo, which was pretty unbelievable. There were some lovely little chapels and a pretty courtyard, but being in the same space as the world’s most famous thinkers and creators (despite their deadness) trumped everything else.

Michelangelo's grave

Galileo's grave

We got to see the tiny leather school that was attached to the church, which was nice, and then we marched back out into the weather (got some gelato) and once again to THE DUOMO.

We decided to test our endurance and shed a few of those gelato pounds by climbing the 463 steps to the top of the Dome. It started off easy, but after about step, oh I don’t know, 15, my legs started to burn. I should be embarrassed to admit that, but I’m not because I didn’t let it stop me, and after climbing the twisting and narrow stairwells and of course taking a lot of breaks, we arrived at the top of dome to the most breathtaking views of Florence. Just enjoy…

We eventually had to head back down to Earth, and we returned to the hostel to check on our sickypoo. She seemed to be doing a little better, so we made preparations to leave for Rome as planned the next day. In the morning, we jumped back on the train and showed up in Roma. We dropped our stuff off at the hostel and jumped into a cab to head to Vatican City. Before we went within the walls, we had some delicious Sicilian food. Then we headed into the country within a city, and bolted for the Sistine Chapel, my number one favorite piece of artwork in the whole world, for fear that it would close before we got to see it. But never fear, we basically ran through the rest of the museum and entered into the chapel. Call me a loser, but I may have shed a tear or two. Then my Art History lectures started ringing in my ears and I started reciting little facts about the ceiling, like the mirror imagery between drunken Noah and Adam as he is given life, and in what aspects Michelangelo’s dislike of Catholicism came through.

We had to say goodbye to the chapel and made our way to St. Peter’s Basilica. On the way we passed some Swiss Guards who had some sweet hats. We headed into the basilica, and wandered around looking at the artifacts that had been collected over thousands of years. We saw the burial place of the world’s first pope, Peter himself, and we touched a magic foot belonging to a statue of St. Peter. We thought Megan should touch the foot to get healed, but we figured the combination of the germs that are probably festering all over that foot and the fact that she’s Jewish would both be working against her, so we decided to just continue to rely on medicine.

All of a sudden, a commotion erupted in the cathedral. We heard shallow chanting and a crowd start to arrange itself, making way for someone who was clearly very important. Being the day before Lent started, we naturally assumed we were about to see Pope Ben himself, but all of a sudden a cardinal shuffled through the basilica! Everyone stood very quiet, and all I could think of as he scuttled by was Angels and Demons and the possibility that I might have to save him from an evil plot by the Carmelengo. And now I want to watch that movie. Great.

After all that Catholic excitement (which I’m sure my Mom is reading about right now and getting very jealous of), we needed a break and headed back to our oh-so-lovely hostel for a brief nap before dinner. When we woke up, we wandered to a fancy Roman restaurant and had some legit food, and then wandered to a nearby piazza where we stumbled up, I kid you not, the greatest cannolis known to man. I think back onto that cannoli and I want to weep. It was incredible. Cannoli gods, I thank you for granting me such deliciousness.

The next day started with a delicious pastry breakfast and cappuccinos delivered to our rooms. With such a good start, there’s no way the day could be bad. The sun was shining as we headed on our Hop-On-Hop-Off bus tour of Rome. Our first stop was the Piazza di Spagna, home to the famed Spanish Steps. We took dozens of pictures at different locations on the steps, and just enjoyed the Italian sun for a while. Once again, I let my Lit nerdiness get the best of me and found myself enthralled by the fact that literally, right next door to the Spanish Steps was the building that John Keats died in. Not a bad place to die, I think.

The plaque commemorating John Keats' death.

We jumped back on the bus to our next stop, the Pantheon. Being surrounded by the history of the building and remembering how the Romans were in fact an ancient people, the building, once again smothered in restoration scaffolding, took on a whole new significance for me that it didn’t have when I first saw it on my 8^th grade Latin trip. Outside the Pantheon there were a bunch of restaurants offering deals for lunch, so we sat outside and enjoyed our last pizzas for a long time while listening to an amazing street performer dazzle the crowd with opera singing. He was amazing, and if he becomes famous some day soon, I wouldn’t be surprised. And you guys will be so jealous.

We hopped off the bus next, but only briefly, at the Circus Maximus, where the ancient Romans held there chariot races a la Ben Hur, and then moved on to our next, and my personal favorite stop of the afternoon, Trevi Fountain. Even amid the crowds of tourists and the countless hungry pigeons, the fountain was stunning. The stone seemed to move with the same fluidity and vibrancy as the water that ran through it. Naturally, we all had to make wishes, and each of us tossed a coin into the fountain hoping for different things. Then we bought a few more scoops of gelato and just sat by the fountain, watching the water and the people and even those nasty little pigeons, not really wanting to move.

But of course, we eventually had to hop back on the bus, because there was one last stop that we couldn’t leave Rome without seeing: The Colosseum. Our bus, which was supposed to come every 15 minutes ended up coming to get us after 35, but we eventually made it to the home of the gladiatorial matches that Rome was famous for. None of us really felt like spending 8 Euros to see the inside when we could simply peek through the different entranceways and see snippets of what we were missing. Plus, we were wholly satisfied with the grandeur of the building from the outside.

Finally it was time to head back to the train station, pick up our bags which we had dropped off at a luggage storage place, and get on the Leonardo express to catch our flight back to what seemed like the dreariest country on Earth after the vibrancy, culture, and not to mention the beautiful weather that we got to experience in Italy.

By now we’ve returned, Megan has made a full recovery, and we’ve begun the grueling internship phase of our time here. But things can only move up from here, as they naturally must when you are in Purgatorio.

Machado: “Travelers, there is no path, paths are made by walking”

2010-02-01T10:13:00.000-08:00

It’s official. America needs to implement a siesta system. Now.

I say this because I just got back from Madrid! The gang (Allie, Ally, Alex, Lauren, Megan) and I had our first weekend adventure, and let me tell you, what an adventure it was. It began before we even left the country when we woke up unbearably early on Friday morning-we got picked up at 4:45am- to head to the airport. After an EXTREMELY thorough pass through security (two people had their entire bags rummaged through) we made it onto the plane. The seats were tiny, the food was expensive, and need I remind you it was about 7 in the morning, but we were all too tired and simultaneously too excited to care.

Our first stop was the hostel, which couldn’t have been in a better location, right on the corner of Montera and Gran Via, in the center of Madrid. Although our digs weren’t exactly luxurious, we didn’t plan on spending much time in the hostel to begin with. We dropped off our bags and headed out on our first Spanish excursion to see some of the major areas.

We felt a little bit like refugees

Our first stop was the Puerta del Sol where we saw dozens of street performers and, my favorite part of the trip, a mariachi band! I may have been a little bit too excited.

Puerta del Sol

I must give my little sister, Tory, credit for the next stop because we headed over to the Plaza Mayor, the major plaza in Madrid, which was beautiful. Again we saw tons of street performers, including a tiny Darth Vader, a very chubby Spiderman and, one of the funniest things: GI Joe, a matador, and Winnie the Pooh being accosted by the police. Things were starting to close for the afternoon, so we decided to suck it up and eat at one of the more expensive restaurants right in the center of the plaza. A few language problems later, we were relaxing in the sun eating paella (…and pizza…) and drinking DELICIOUS sangria, when we were approached by Marco from Gambia, who gave us all African bracelets that I think brought us good luck on the trip.

Plaza Mayor

Next we walked to the Palacio Real de Madrid, which was filled to the brim with ridiculous wallpaper and fancy furniture, and it had a pretty awesome throne room. I think I’ll probably make my throne room look something like that someday.

Palacio Real de Madrid

We also headed to the cathedral next door which had the most amazing ceiling. Each panel was covered in different colors and patterns and was completely different from anything I’d ever seen in a cathedral before.

Finally it was time for us to siesta and we headed back to the hostel. We found our blankets, which we jokingly referred to as “mantas monas” because we thought that they were made out of monkey fur. I know that’s not real Spanish, but it was funny. Our brief nap ended up turning into a 4 hour coma, and at 8pm, it was time for dinner. We’d gotten a recommendation to go to a tapas place called El Tigre, but when we finally found it, after getting pretty lost, we discovered it to be so crowded that we couldn’t even open the door and people were laughing at us from the inside. So we decided to wander around and find somewhere else to eat, and just when we thought we were going to starve, we were saved by an English-speaking, restaurant-promoting waiter at a restaurant that wasn’t too expensive where we could sit down and eat Italian food. You can whine about authenticity all you want, but after a long day of struggling to communicate what we wanted, it was nice to have someone there who understood us.

After dinner we stopped back at the hostel and then made plans to meet up with Megan’s good friends from BU, Allie and Nina. We found them at this trendy bar called Areina and then finally headed back to the hostel. Unfortunately, sleep was nearly impossible because the room was FREEZING. Those mantas monas don’t really provide much warmth. No wonder monkeys live in the tropics.

The next morning we had free breakfast at the hostel and headed to the Reina Sofia, the giant modern art museum in Madrid. Inside we saw the famous Picasso painting, Guernica, which is really incredible, and some mind warping Dali paintings. The museum is really beautiful itself and we got in for free as students.

Reina Sofia

Afterwards, we headed back to the hostel to go on a tapas tour. Tapas are small Spanish plates of food of things like cheese, ham, olives, and blood sausage (which does indeed contain blood- yes I did try it). Our tour was 10 euro for a free drink and free tapas at four different bars, so there’s no way we could pass that up. The sangria was wonderful and one of the bars, Taberna Alhambra, was really interesting. The famous image associated with the bar is that of the daughter of the lead singer of the famous Mexican band, Tequila. The bar was also the location of a famous fight between a Spanish bullfighter and Mexican bullfighter both vying for the love of Ava Gardner. Just to relieve you of the burning question running through your mind, the Spanish bullfighter won. That’s right: those are my people.

The famous image in Alhambra of the daughter of the lead singer of Tequila

The tapas tour was followed by another siesta, which again, was too long, so we decided to just hang out in the hostel for a little while and then got ready to go to dinner. We met up with Allie and Nina and their friend Jess, and they took us to the most delicious restaurant where I had fried eggs, French fries, and sausage. Fun fact: Spaniards will put a fried egg on anything. New trick for home? You betcha.

Our lovely Madrid guides: Nina, Allie, and Jess

As we were leaving, we heard someone promoting free sangria (obviously my new favorite drink, could you tell?) and needless to say, we had to follow him. However, when we arrived at the bar it was COMPLETELY empty. We were out way too early: in Spain, most people don’t even start eating dinner until around 10pm and most clubs will stay open until 6am. Eventually a few more people entered the bar including some very attractive (English-speaking) Spanish guys names Felix and…something else. We hung out with them at our hostel bar and then met up with their friend Joaquin (a bullfighter!) to head over to this huge club called Pacha. However, the line was really long and the it was really expensive so we just headed over to this indie bar called La Idioteque which was really fun. At that point it was 4am, and definitely time for bed because we had to wake up early for our last day in Madrid.

We woke up and headed straight to El Rastro, a huge outdoor market with pretty much everything. We coincidentally ran into my friend Kelsey, which seems nearly impossible if you know anything about El Rastro (it was so crowded as you can see from the picture below-this is just one street).

Next we headed over to the Prado, which is amazing. We had a serious issue at the ticket counter, with some very rude ticket ladies, but we made it inside and saw some amazing works by Goya, Velazquez, and a hoard of other painters. I particularly liked seeing Las Pinturas Negras by Goya and an painting called “The Execution by Firing Squad of Torrijos and his Colleages on the beach at Málaga” by Antonio Gisbert Perez. Of course, we couldn’t end the day without some AMAZING churros con chocolate.

Mmmmmm...

We went back the the hostel and headed to the airport nice and early. We were on our way home when…

OH NO!! Delayed two hours because some idiots at Gatwick had to repack all of the earlier flight's luggage into the cargo hold. We finally made it home, exhausted but completely thrilled, at 4am and were greeted by blankets that weren’t made of monkey fur.

The moral of the story, boys and girls, is best represented by the title quote by Spanish poet, Antonio Machado. We headed to Madrid with little to no knowledge of the language, city, or culture and we muddled through and had an amazing time. And with all the walking we did, I’m sure we made a lot of paths.

Oscar Wilde: Unnecessary Things

2010-01-23T02:50:00.000-08:00

Parents, don't be alarmed, but I've spent the past week in the lap of luxury. Sort of.

In case you're not aware of English social stereotypes, let me enlighten you. During the unending lecture series we were forced to sit through as our "orientation", I did manage to pick up a few key facts:

1. English people love dogs.

2. Charles Darwin is a national hero- he's even on the money!

3. While the American vice is to cling to our divisions between races, the English flaw is hold on to the antiquated system of class separation.

I've learned about the lower class, or "working class" as it's called here, in the readings I've been doing in my classes. Tony Harrington, an English poet who writes primarily about his parents and his resentment for the upper echelons of society, has been one of the topics in my Postwar British and Irish Literature and Poetry class, and John Osborne's "Look Back in Anger" has been the major focus of my Postwar British Theatre class so far. Both of these writers express their anger towards the oppression they feel from the upper class and both do so with unbelievable eloquence. Good stuff. Revolutionary stuff.

But while I've been reading about the lower class, I feel like I've been living among the posh. The beauty of London, ladies and gentleman, is that you can do so while spending very little money.

First was a trip to the Natural History Museum. It's in an amazing building with unbelievable ceilings. There was a SUPER creepy exhibit about human development...let's just say, I came face to face with a giant fetus. While I would argue that it's not nearly as cool as it's New York equivalent, it was pleasant to spend a rainy day wandering around a museum, FO FREE! Yup, all of the museums in London are free entry. Just one of the cheap experiences you can have in London and still feel cultured.

Unfortunately my camera was dead, but here is a photo I stole from Lauren:

Dino!

Next on the agenda was a trip to Windsor Castle. Absolutely stunning. It's one of the Queen's spare castles, just in case hers breaks down or something. We took a pretty brief bus ride with an unbelievably annoying tour guide who was more concerned about where we could find toilets than what we were looking at. Upon arrival, we saw the spot where Charles and Camilla got married, a very crooked house, and a statue of Queen Victoria (which we'll come back to later...) The castle is perched up on top of a hill and is so gorgeous. No, the Queen was not there. Yes, we were sad to learn this.

Of course, almost the entire castle was closed. Because we're that lucky. We did see Queen Anne's Dollhouse, which is ridiculous. She was given it as a gift because she "had a love for miniature things". It has working electricity and plumbing. And it's big. And not a toy at all. Just a giant house to look at and not touch when you have a great enthusiasm for small objects. Kind of sounds like a torture device rather than a gift. But oh well.

We also saw some fancy china (I would make a joke about only using it when the Queen comes to visit, but that wouldn't really make sense...) and a pretty outstanding view. But that was really it. Even the chapel, St. George's Chapel, was off limits because it was a Sunday and there were services going on inside. So we decided to leave and get some lunch and do a little exploring.

Here's where the Queen Victoria statue comes back into my story. After our visit, we were supposed to meet at this statue at 1:45 to walk to Eton, a nearby town with a really fancy school and weird uniforms. I would tell you more about it, but I can't. Because I didn't get to go. When we obediently arrived at the statue at the set time, we discovered that everyone had already left without us. Thanks a lot guys. Luckily, karma struck back when they discovered that their walk was in vain because Eton was apparently extremely boring (as one would expect it to be on a Sunday when there's NO SCHOOL). So we all headed home a little disappointed with the trip. But we couldn't help feeling at least a little fancy having been to our first castle.

Once again, these photos are credited to Lauren's camera:

The castle

We had a lot of fun with the audio wands.

The Queen's yard.

The fanciness continued as, the next night, Allie and I went to the ballet, "The Sleeping Beauty". I'd never been to a ballet before (discounting the annual performance of The Nutcracker at my high school) and I'd certainly never been to an opera house. But after getting just a teensy bit lost (we still couldn't find it when we were standing 10 steps away from the front door), that's exactly where we ended up. In the very highest section of the Royal Opera House. The ballet was about 20 minutes too long (what was Puss in Boots doing, making a cameo in the last act?), and the dancers were a little too indulgent in their bows at the end, but overall the performance was really beautiful. The costumes were gorgeous and the arrangements of the dancers were really interesting. And above all, the space, the Opera House itself, was stunning. See for yourself.

Our final stop on the posh tour was to Harrods, where we just popped in to pick up a few things. Kidding. We were too scared to breathe on anything, let alone buy it. Not even a sandwich. We saw some £1200 puppies and some very unwearable shoes, then headed home. But it's definitely a place I'll return to once I recover from the sticker shock.

So here's the lesson of the week: Oscar Wilde was right when he said: "We live in an age when unnecessary things are our only necessities." They are vital to the London experience. They are necessary to the cultural cultivation of our young and malleable minds.

And also, we're girls; we like shiny things.

Richard III: "Woe to the land that's governed by a child"

2010-01-16T01:58:00.000-08:00

...Especially when that child just turned 21! I may not actually be the Queen of England, but today, I really feel like one.

Yesterday was an absolutely amazing day. We started off with a trip to the Tower of London, which is one of my favorite sights in the city (Oh, what am I saying? They're all my favorite sights in the city) The girls and I followed a beefeater around who kept demanding to know that we knew how many towers are actually in the Tower of London (the answer is 20). We learned so much history from him and some really great (and horribly grisly) stories.

One of these is the tale of James Scott, Duke of Monmouth who was publicly executed for rebelling against James II. All was going smoothly (or at least as smoothly as your execution can g0) until it was time for the actual head slicing. His executor, a butcher and drunk named Jack Ketch, used both of his skills at once when it took him 5 blows to actually sever Scott's head from his body. He eventually even gave up on the axe and just pulled out one of his carving knives to finish the job. As if that wasn't bad enough, he then had is head sewn back on to his body, for what reason no one knows.

I must be completely sick in the head for thinking this is one of the coolest stories ever.

Of course this is also the famous holding site of Sir Walter Raleigh and St. Thomas More, and even more famously, the location of the silent execution of Anne Boleyn who had her head chopped of by broadsword while she prayed. All this blood and gore talk wouldn't be complete without at least one mention of Richard III, who allegedly killed his nephews to gain the throne. Hence, the title.

And of course, being girls, we had to go see the Crown Jewels. There were some very fancy spoons, some very heavy looking crowns, a giant punch bowl (Aptly named the Grand Punch Bowl-I'm not joking) and one ENORMOUS diamond called the Star of Africa. Let me just tell all the gentlemen out there: your engagement ring to the person you love will never be good enough compared to this rock. 530 clear carats. It's ridiculous.

Here are some photos:

The tower from outside the wall

Traitor's Gate

Some guards, chillin.

Tower Bridge

Awkward photo in the Vault

Tower?

Afterwards, Megan and I got the chance to see our wonderful friend Emile, who showed us around the London School of Economics, and then we headed home to get ready for some birthday festivities.

The girls had purchased some props at the Tower of London gift shop (which you will see momentarily), so I was the Queen of England for the night, a child ruling the land. We went out to a place called the Notting Hill Arts Club, and I may have found my new favorite place. Last night was called Funk Royale, where they (shockingly!) played funk music all night. The DJ even made several birthday announcements, but I'm sure no one heard them because the club was packed. I had such a super duper time and I need to thank all of my peeps for coming with me. You're the best. Now a few more photos:

The girls (minus Megan?)- please notice the crown.

Our darling friend Nathan!

Duke of Wellington: The Other Side of the Hill

2010-01-10T16:51:00.001-08:00

Ok, I know that the Duke of Wellington isn't a British writer or character. Sorry. But it only seemed fitting since I'm living in the Wellington wing of my floor in The Crofton. That's right, people. I've arrived. After 7 hours crammed into a very small seat, lugging my two enormous suitcases through up and down the labyrinthine halls of my building, and unpacking-only to discover that I left my laundry bag at home, my converters didn't work, and my suitcase is broken, I made it to London. Trust me, it was all worth it.

Having been here for a just over 24 hours, I have already learned plenty about the city. For instance: don't tip, especially not the cab drivers. They have a very prestigious job and get payed a ton for what they do, so paying extra is an insult. Also, check your converters before you leave. I discovered just how many different plugs exist in the world as I scoured the internet for a place to find a USA to UK converter. If you're wondering how many there are, the answer is simply too many.

But general initial observations have simply been that the people here are so far extremely nice and generally patient with us confused Americans (Why would you look through an enormous catalogue to find what you're looking for while you're in the store? It still doesn't make sense to me). I enjoyed my first pint a nearby pub called The Gloucester Arms and am headed off on a boat tour tomorrow afternoon, which may be freezing but possibly very enjoyable.

If you're wondering who the Duke of Wellington is, I can tell you plenty about him, since his portrait looms over me in the kitchen. I learned this afternoon, as I ate me very "eclectic" lunch of grapes, turkey on tortillas, and brie, that the Duke of Wellington was a famous war hero during the 19th century. He is famous for saying "All the business of war, and indeed all the business of life, is to endeavor to find out what you don't know by what you do; that's what I called 'guessing what was at the other side of the hill.' I suppose I kind of relate to this sentiment. While it may not be war I'm heading into, I can only guess what lies ahead of me. But all I've wanted to do since the moment I saw the snow covered fields of England out of the porthole of the plane is...everything. I want to see and do and conquer as much as I possibly can while I'm here. And with Wellington's same desire to find out what's out there that I haven't seen, I'm sure it won't be a problem.

Cheers all.

PS Fun fact about the Duke of Wellington- He is attributed as having said of Parliament: "I never saw so many shocking bad hats in my life". Thought that was amusing and worth sharing with whoever is reading this. Now for photos:

Ally, Alex, and Lauren enjoying wine at the Gloucester Arms.

Megan, Allie, and myself at the pub.

There will be more, I promise.

Sherlock Holmes: The Game is Afoot

2010-01-05T06:32:00.000-08:00

Having found a pocket of time between the chaos of packing, appointments, and last minute pants issues (ugh, pants), I've decided to start writing. This is kind of a funny feeling-writing something that completely encases all of my feelings about this trip. I leave on Friday for the wilds of...London, and that date is slowly but surely creeping up on me. Last night I started pulling everything together, and the mountain of stuff in my life that needs to be crammed into a suitcase or two seems a little impossible in itself. So the realization that I'll be living in Europe in a mere THREE days makes me slightly dizzy. Don't get me wrong, I couldn't be more excited. But living a life outside the places I've made so comfortable for myself is just a little intimidating.

I guess more than anything I'm curious. Curious, obviously, about what I'll see, do, and hear in Europe. But also about what I'll be missing while I'm gone. I know you're thinking "REG! Are you crazy! You're going to London! Who cares what's going on back home." But I can't help it. For those of you who are reading this and don't realize it yet, I'm going to miss you terribly. I can't even express how much it pains me to leave you all. But, alas, leave you I must.

I've created this niche in the internet for me to purge all of my thoughts and feelings about my time abroad, and I promise not to let this get too sappy. Enjoy, and bon voyage! Keep in touch.

By the way, if you're a little confused about the title of this post, I assure you there is a reason. Being an English major (and thus, a huge dork), I've decided to name each of my posts after a character or writer whose life I am reminded of during my adventures. Today's title, Sherlock Holmes signifies the mystery of what's coming (and may or may not have a little bit to do with the fact that I just saw that movie and have a teeeensy obsession with Robert Downey Jr.)

And yes, I will indeed be paying a visit to the museum at 221b Baker St. Need I remind you, huge dork.

Cheers