Wednesday, 15 October 2008

Someday We'll Be Together



I forgot to mention that Vicky and I went back to the V&A on Tuesday!  There was a slight delay when we got on the Circle Line to South Kensington because of "an incident with a passenger under the car."  No joke.  That's how they phrased that.  

We basically did the bottom floor (meaning all of Asia) and the Mary Wilson exhibit.  The Supremes exhibit was awesome for the clothes that they had on display, but it was strange how they situated it within the context of social change.  While I know that Motown was big because it brought "black music" to the forefront 
when Barry Gordy founded it and it was significant for its cross cultural appeal, I thought that placing the Supremes next to Martin Luther King, Jr. and the whole Civil Rights Movement was strange.  The exhibition kind of failed to link the two together.  Nonetheless, it was really cool to see the clothes and hear the music.  How could you not love it?  I also didn't know that Mary Wilson was pretty much the only constant Supreme from the beginning.  Cray cray.  In the first picture is the loaf of Wonderbread that the Supremes had their picture put on in order to sell vouchers for people to enter the Annual Motown Talent 
Contest in 1965.  They had the clothes they wore on several album covers, performances--notably when they performed for the Queen of England, and from post-Diana days.  Of course, though, they didn't just have the dresses they wore!  They also had the headpieces, WIGS!, and shoes.  So cute: all the shoes had the name of their owner written inside.  All in all, it was an interesting exhibit.  Vicky and I had fun with it.  Even though it was a bit small. 

Also, there were these two women who reminded me of Edina and Patsy from Absolutely Fabulous as they basically pressed their noses up to the cases and sang and danced along to all the songs.  

Afterwards we walked down the street to the Science Museum since it was free and we had a few hours left.  It wasn't my favorite museum, but I wasn't expecting it to be.  We actually spent a lot of time in what I think was meant to be the children's section, but it was still legit.  It basically talked about identity and genetics and
whatnot.  That was interesting.  I've also got to mention that they had one part about gender and how children learn their roles socially.  God bless the Science Museum for making little feminists everywhere!  They also had this trophy for the winner of the British Swearing Tournament Challenge.  Amazing.  That cat on the right has seven toes.  Trippy.  Anyway, after we poked around this floor for a bit, Vicky and I climbed the stairs two stories up (about 60 stairs) to "The Future."  If that was the future, I'm ending things now!  When we got up there, people were basically playing video games where you had to direct someone to a toilet.  I'm not kidding.  


It's Been One Week (and then some..)

On Thursday my friend from high school came into town from Galway with some of her friends to stay with me.  Of course, only she stayed with me and the rest stayed at a hotel nearby.  Anyway, on Thursday when she hadn't called by about 10pm I began to get worried and checked Facebook to make sure that I had given her the correct phone number to reach me.  NOPE!  I had given her the wrong cell number twice.  Two different wrong numbers.  So, I decided to wait at the train station for a bit just randomly hoping that she would just magically turn up.  Of course, she didn't.  Since I wouldn't randomly turn up at a London train station hoping that the person I hadn't spoken to would be waiting there either.  As I realized this, I took the escalator downstairs and ran into Adam on his way back from badminton.  So we walked back together.  I wrote on Allison's sister's wall hoping to get the correct number and also posted on Allison's wall, and we managed to meet up the next day after my American Underground Cinema class.  

I'm sure you all love to see samples of what I watch in my classes, but I really can't justify a sample from my American Underground class.  The most memorable film was 36 minutes of flashing lights.  It really  hurt my eyes when it would flash black, which is strange because usually it hurts to be subjected to bright lights, but this was the opposite.  Anyway, no one in the class really enjoyed them.  We also watched some Ken Jacobs, but on small screens they don't work very well.  Those were more interesting.  I can liken the effect onscreen to looking at a snowglobe in close up while moving around.  Shapes would begin to take form as things moved, but they were all transient.  Really, quite interesting but somehow eerie.  If you want to know what Ken Jacobs is all about, check out the online collection of his films 'til the end of the month here.  That website's always got underground shizz on if that's your thang.  (Perfect Film is the most famous.  And DON'T WORRY!!  Ken Jacobs is pretty important, so it's not time ill spent.)

After I got out of that class, I was free as a weekender!  Since Allison was still with her travel buddies, Jen and I went to Borough Market down the road and stocked up on deliciousness.  Jen got some fudge while I got a chorizo sandwich for lunch and then bought some peaches (not as good as the ones from my backyard), apples (really crisp), a cheese between Camembert and Brie, tomato bread, as well as some razcherries from this stand that has an array of fruits, nuts, and yogurt covered things.  On the way back from Borough, Jen and I stopped at Patisserie Lila where we picked up some cupcakes as part of my neverending quest to find delicious cake.  When we got back, Allison and I took a walk down the South Bank and crossed the Millennium Bridge to stroll around St. Paul's and guess what we saw!?  They were filming the upcoming Sherlock Holmes movie.  Niice.  So, we rubbernecked for a bit while Allison took pictures of Robert Downey Jr. and we tried to figure out which one Guy Ritchie was.  It was impossible until we saw him and Robert play punching.  Quaint.  We came back to the halls and looked through the seven guidebooks I have and found a place to go to dinner called As Greek As It Gets and made our way over to South Kensington for it.  We ended up getting the plate for two, and while the food was good, it really was just a huge pile of meat.  We thought it would be more like a plate to make your own gyros.  False.  But the chicken was AMAZING.  After we got back, Allison and I went to pick up the cupcakes and then met up with some of my flatmates at Guy's bar.  The cupcakes were dry.  The search continues.

Saturday was lovely weather and so Allison and I set out to Portobello Road.  (Portobello Road.  Street where the riches of of ages are sold.  Anything and everything a chap can unload is sold by the barrel in Portobello Road.  You'll find what you want in the Po-ortobe-ello Road.--Bedknobs and Broomsticks)  That clip gave me false ideas about what to expect.  But I wasn't disappointed.  It was crazy crowded there.  Sooo many antique dealers and tourist crap peddlers.  It's not a street market, really.  A lot of the shops are actual stores in buildings.  On the other side of the street, however, there are stands.  But it's not your typical winding marketplace.  It's just one, long, somewhat overwhelming street.  Anyway, for lunch Allison got Ghanian food for lunch and I had a butternut squash tart.  Both were so good.  As we wound our way back up, this woman was selling her jewelry for £5 each, so 
Allison got a 1950s necklace and a set of earrings.  Best part, though, was when we stopped at Hummingbird Bakery and got cupcakes.  FINALLY!!!  Moist, delicious cake.  It was really awe-inspiring after so many strikeouts.  Allison and I couldn't stop talking about it the whole way back.  She got red velvet (only red because of a whole bottle of food dye, didn't you know?) and I got a Nutella cupcake.  So you know I was in seventh heaven.  Also, FACT: Magnolia cupcakes in NYC are overrated.  But Portobello Road was really fun.  The buildings there are so lovely.  All are painted these really fun colors: pinks, turquoises, lavenders!  All my faves!  Afterwards we took the tube to go to Spitalfield's Market in East London, but were dismayed to find that it was closed and planned to go on Sunday.  We popped into some vintage shops that were full of selection but tremendously overpriced.  We walked back to the halls and then went over to Borough Market, which is a completely different scene than on Fridays.  Basically we could hardly move and it was ridiculous.  We ended up getting some fudge though.  Allison got all the different types, but I only got chocolate covered honeycomb (marvelous), chili chocolate, and sea salt caramel.  After we came back, Allison's friends phoned and we decided to all meet up for some dinner.  We ended up going to the Anchor (the historical pub from my first post) and eating there.

The next day, Allison and I got an extremely late 
start to the day.  We ended up meeting with Cristina after she got off work and going for a walk in the park because it was so beautiful outside.  You probably don't understand how luscious it was outside.  We were literally walking around coatless.  I got home and checked the weather: 73º!!  (I still don't know how to do Celsius..)   Everyone was outside just basking in the marvelous sun.  Cristina said it was the best day she could remember in a long time.  And she felt ALMOST like she was in L.A.



In my Fathers in Film course, last week 
we watched 8 Femmes, which was really enjoyable and completely ridiculous.  It's essentially a whodunit musical set in 1940s France.  Bonus: It was partially inspired by George Cukor's 1939 The Women, which is absolutely not to be confused with the 2008 The Women.  Apparently there's also some play that it's based on, but I can't quite remember what it's called at this moment.  There was one moment when I was absolutely reminded of everyone's beloved Bride and Prejudice when
 they burst into the first song.  "No Life Without Wife" is so much like 
"Papa T'es plus dans l'coup," how could you not love it?  This is the same class for which we watched The Silence of the Lambs this past week.  Nearly all the reading we do for this course is Freud.  All I can say about Freud without hesitation is that he's quite eager to fit everything into the Oedipal Complex.  It's quite obnoxious.  (I'm sorry, but I can't talk about Bride and Prejudice without inserting everyone's favorite number here.  You can thank me later.  It's also come on my itunes shuffle three times in the past week.  So, that's significant.)

With all the discussion of films, you might think that I'm not getting in my share of live entertainment.  Fear not, readers!  In the past week I've gone to not one, but THREE, live things.  Whoa!  Dream big.  Last Tuesday, Adam and I went to a debate at St. Paul's Cathedral called "The Battle for Truth?" that was described in the leaflet as: "DOes science lead inexorably to atheism?  Is religious faith irrational?  In this opening discussion, four leading philosophers and theologians consider the nature of science and religion, and how they can clash in the search for understanding."  (That link has the broadcast if you want to listen.  It was played on London's Christian radio station.)  I'm not gonna lie to you.  I didn't really listen to the debate at all.  I thought it would be really interesting, but not so much.  I basically just sat in the cathedral and looked around at the surroundings and kept thinking to myself, "What a beautiful venue.  But the acoustics are terrible."  They really were.  Basically, there was a slight echo so that whenever one of the debaters spoke, it was muffled by what they had said about 3 seconds before.  Sad.  But, I feel pretty good about tuning out because Adam said it wasn't very good and that they all seemed to be coming from the same place.  He knows a lot about this stuff aka he's read some of the materials the debaters were discussing.  (And it's not like I wasn't listening at all.  Even I could gather that what they were saying wasn't terribly varied.  I feel justified.)

Last night I went to Oedipus starring Ralph Fiennes at the Olivier Theatre. 
 Many of you may remember Ralph Fiennes from his stellar work in Maid in Manhattan (A.K.A. J-Lo's greatest movie after The Wedding Planner.).  I've never seen Oedipus in real life and it was pretty good.   It's weird, but whenever I read the play I always imagine that when he comes out after having pierced his eyes that he comes out blind.  False.  This production brought him back out in his bloodied glory.  OOC (Out of Control for those who don't know me..).  Apparently the show is sold out, but we had gotten tickets through the agency Wash U hired.  Well, too bad when this other girl and I arrived, our seats had been given away.  So we went to the box office where they said that the company had returned the tickets a few weeks before.  (I guess they only returned our two tickets?  Strange and wondrous.)  In the end, we managed to get better seats that we had originally been given.  And we got reimbursed too.  Baller.

Last Wednesday the same agency had also bought us tickets to go to the Comedy Store, which is basically improv.  It was pretty good.  I thought they sometimes did sketches a bit too long and I don't particularly care for musical improv, but overall, you could tell that the performers were quite talented and it was enjoyable.  One of my favorites was when they did this bit about a tiger javelin thrower and each performer had to say one word as they answered the questions (so it was like 3 people being one, yeah?) and the interviewer asked about the tigers, and they said it worked best with tigers that spoke French.  Well, the interviewer proceeded to ask what kinds of things the tiger says most while running around the living room during training: "Ouvrez la porte." and "Où est ma soeur?"  Comedy!

I've found that the British have a remarkable sense of humor when telling people to abide by rules.  For example, on my walks to and from class, there is a sign next to the Tate Modern (on the Thames) that says: 

"Music Has the charms to soothe the savage beast."--William Congreve  
but here it can be a nuisance to our neighbors.

It's a sign for noise pollution.  Awesome, right?  Their cigarette boxes also have warning labels, but they are not like the Surgeon General's Warning required on American ones.  These are far more explicit.  Two of my favorites: "Smoking can cause a slow and painful death."  and "Smoking can reduce blood flow and cause impotence."  Pwahahahahahaha.  I love them.  There really are far too many people who smoke in London.  It's quite awful, especially in many of the areas around my halls where they're completing construction and they're essentially funneled all the foot traffic into one aisle so that it is nearly impossible to free oneself from the clouds of smoke.  It's abhorrent so early in the morning.  And in the afternoon.  And at night.... 

Speaking of smoke, my building keeps having fire drills.  There was one Thursday night, Sunday evening, and Monday evening.  Apparently the one on Monday was due to a real fire..  That's what people are telling me.  In general, though, I find the British far more concerned about potential fires than Americans.  I make this statement based on the obscene number of fire doors that they have in every building.  It seems really unnecessary--sometimes they are placed within 5 feet of each other.  For serious.  Today during the 10 minute break in my seminar, I waited 5 minutes to go into the main building for the toilet, and was swept into the current of people being evacuated.  Perfect timing?  Interestingly, the building where my class was taking place, which is in a slightly set off wing was not emptied.  So eventually we all went back inside and class had continued despite 95% of the class's absence.  I didn't get to use the restroom during break.  

This is another picture of the beautiful day that was Sunday.  Probably won't happen again, so I'm documenting here to let you know it was for real.  Doesn't it look like a painting? 
London is the greenest city in Europe.  (Cristina tells me this every time I see her.)  

Saturday, 4 October 2008

"Souvent Me Souvient" (the Motto of St. John's in Cambridge)

A thousand apologies for not updating sooner.  It's been crazy busy over here what with classes picking up a bit and catching up with folks from home.  (That's right.  Make it known that you're going to be in London and people start crawling out of the woodwork like no other..)

In class this week I've watched two winners of the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival.  Monday I watched Vozvraschcheniye (The Return), which 
won the prize at the 2003 festival, for my Fathers in Film class.  It was about a father who comes back to his family after being away for 12 years and takes his two sons on a trip.  He essentially gives them a crash course in "how to be a man."  So this is kind of weird, but I really liked the older son in the movie, so I went to IMDB (Internet Movie Database--the cinephile's Wikipedia) and then found out that he had actually drowned on the date of the Russian premiere.  He was born in 1987.  It was crazy (and also eerie considering the role of water in the movie) and sad.  On Wednesday in my Third Cinema and Beyond class, we watched the winner of the 1966 Golden Lion: The Battle of Algiers.  It's about the Algerian struggle for independence from France that had taken place only four years before, so it was still very recent in the audience's memory.  There's one scene where three women take three bombs into the French section and set them off.
I was surprised after the film when all the other students immediately began referring to the Algerians as terrorists because it was impossible for me to see them that way.  I'm including the clip because it's the most famous segment of the film (1:22-the end--more on "The Battle of Algiers 6of13").  The amount of power that the women were given in the effort is remarkable--they were nearly always the ones who carried the weapons that men used to carry out plans.  I thought it particularly significant considering the amount of restrictions placed on women in other aspects of Muslim culture.

I also saw non-Venice Film Festival movies.  Fear not!  On Saturday, Laura America, Vicky, Neil, Adam, and I went to the cinema to see Tropic Thunder.  It was pretty...okay.  I thought it was going to be a lot better than it was considering its high rating on RottenTomatoes.com and also just because I had only read good things about it.  (Although, Adam had told me he only heard mediocre things.  So, he wins.)  Everyone in the audience thought everything was hilarious, and I will admit that it did have its moments.  Tom Cruise was really funny in it.  I actually wouldn't have even known it was him unless I had read that Entertainment Weekly Article about the whole film.  On Friday in my American Underground Cinema course we watched at least six films by the experimental director Stan Brakhage.  All of his movies are silent, which is not to say that it was silent in the way that people usually think of silent movies (which is not silent at all, but merely has an unsynched soundtrack).  These were totally devoid of sound, which worked as a way to intensify the images.  There was nothing to distract from the images and really made you reflect.  We watched Window Water Baby Moving, which shows the birthing process.  Without leaving anything to the imagination.  (She actually said some people watch the movie in biology courses.  That's how rrreal the images are.)  Then we watched The Act of Seeing with One's Own Eyes, which is made entirely of footage from actual autopsies.  They're both really graphic.  It was only after making us sit through these two films that my professor announced that they were not representative of Brakhage's work at all.  He usually works with painted film, which is really quite lovely.  He made this one just after he was diagnosed with cancer.  I really enjoyed it.  Mothlight, however, is his most shown one.  In fact, my professor says that in Introductory level courses about avant-garde cinema, they always show it.  (He describes this as "what a moth sees in its lifetime if black was white and white was black.)  Apparently the correct way to view it is to watch it on 16mm and then examine the film itself, which includes actual pieces of moth pressed between the film.  (I've become a bit of a snob going to Wash U where they make sure to only show films if the original film is available.  Everything we watch here is on DVD.  Tant pis.)

Saturday I had to watch The Birth of a Nation, which was three hours and ten minutes of terrible.  It's based on Dixon's novel The Clansmen, which essentially glorifies the creation of the KKK during the Reconstruction era.  I really have no more to say on the subject.  I'm not even going to include a clip because no one should have to sit through that.  But here's a quotation that pretty much sums up the movie's message: "The former enemies of the North and South are united again in common defense of their Aryan birthright."  D.W. Griffith (the movie's director) and his whole posse are too racist to be fo'real.  

This week was quite an adventure in socializing!  On Tuesday (since I have no lectures/screenings) I met up with Kawai.  Many of you may remember Kawai from her previous appearance as Alex's BFF.  Why, yes.  It's the one and the same.  Only she's blonde now.  (When I asked her why, she said she gets sad when she has dark hair.  And "for her sanity" she keeps it light.)  We started off by showing her my room and then we set off to take the bus (which Kawai is in love with) to Piccadilly Circus.  Kawai insisted on us having tea at Fortnum & Mason, which was delightful.  Unfortunately, London seems to think it's okay to start getting ready for Christmas, and it irks me quite a bit.  The entire bottom floor was fooling customers into purchasing white, sparkly ornaments.  I just wasn't having it.  (It's not just 300 year old department stores that are too pumped for the jelly-bellied pimp in the red suit, restaurants all over town are proclaiming that they are accepting Christmas reservations.  It's kind of gnarly.)  Afterwards, we winded our way over to Chinatown where we actually went to a Korean restaurant.  Kawai's still a vegetarian.  Somewhat non sequitur, but you wanted to know--I'm sure.  Afterwards we went over to Oxford Circus on the bus and encountered one of my biggest problems with London: people are ALWAYS out on the streets.  I really think that people should be in working more often.  I'm not kidding.  You really have to work at navigating the throngs of people.  Anyway, Kawai and I first stopped at the biggest Primark in London (maybe--the world!?).  Kawai wanted me to make sure to tell people this and then followed that instruction up with "That's really ghetto fabulous."  (Primark is like Forever 21 but with waaay more people and a home section.  A.K.A. Chaotic like Britney and Kevin.)  I came away with a cardigan for £8.  Then we went across the street to this other store that is slightly pricier but with waay less people so it's worth it.  I got a pair of Houndstooth flats.   Successsss.  Kawai thought we had earned a drink so we went over to Waterloo where there was some bar she had wanted to go to, and then we separated.

On Wednesday, Kawai and I met up to go to a pub for some eats and drank.   Remember a few posts ago when I tried to get a panini at that pub but then sheepishly left before I got up the nerve?  Well, that's where we went!  I got the sandwich I had wanted before, and it was really kind of disappointing, but oh well.  Food in London, in general, is not much to talk about. Actually, that's not entirely true--the non-British food is quite good.  I don't really think British people like to eat (probs why Londoners are so thin)
and so they make their food really quite bland.  Anyway, after Kawai had finished her cheese plate we separated.  I went back home to get ready to meet up with Lili and go to Cristina's housewarming party.  (That's right!  It was essentially an NDA reunion on an exceptionally small scale but in a foreign country, so I think it all evens out.)  We haphazardly met up at the Green Park platform and hopped back on the train and rode out to Zone 3 (Big Deal!) to get to Cristina's house.  It was really fun to be all together and Lili was tweaking out at how British Cristina sounds now.   We ended up going back on the tube with another American (Lili's new BFF Gabriel).  Lili and Gabe were quite acrobatic on the ride home, as you can see.  I have to say that the highlight of the night was when a Briton (Oliver from the coast) told Lili and I that we didn't look American because we didn't dress as badly as Americans do.  I think that's just about the biggest compliment I've received in a long while.  (To prove his statement, the other American in my class was wearing sweats, a sweatshirt, and Uggs in screening today.  Disaster.  Londoners do not wear sweats to class.  That is all trash--i.e. all American.)

Friday, Kawai and I met up to go to Borough Market, which is this outdoor market, à la Farmers Market behind my hizzle.  It was pretty awesome and Kawai got this vegetarian burger that she said tasted "really natural" and I got a snausage roll with cranberry sauce.  It was okay.  I also got cake, which was better than the Sainsbury's cake but I'm still on a quest for glorious cake magic.  She got yogurt and chocolate covered nuts.  That night I ended up meeting up with Cristina and her housemates at a gay nightclub for Paolo's birthday.  (Paolo is Cristina's Italian housemate.  In fact, their house is quite diverse.  The facebook invitation said their housewarming party was being thrown by "An American bimbo.  A Romanian pickpocket.  An Italian mafioso.  A common Northerner.  And a Welsh sheep shagger.)  Anyway, all I realized is that the Brits really DO love their eighties more than is probably necessary.  But the club was ridiculous in that it had about 7 different rooms all with different names: The Love Lounge, the Indie Room, the Pop Lounge, etc.

On Sunday, I was meant to meet up with a girl from Wash U at King's Cross Train Station to take a train to Cambridge.  I left my building and started to go through a cordoned off area to get to the tube station when a police officer came up to me to point out that the Police Line was there to keep me out of the area.  Whoops!  (The story is that some guy was shot in the head outside the nightclub in the tunnel that's down the street. SeOne.  It's actually the club where KCL hosted the Autumn Ball that my fresher floormates went to on Wednesday when I was at Sin.  Anyway, it happened at about 5:30 in the morning and seems to be pre-meditated.  DON'T WORRY!)  Anyway, when I got on the train I realized that I had forgotten my phone in my room, and when I didn't see her on the platform, I figured I would just take the train and meet her as she alighted on the other end.  Too bad when I got off and waited, she was nowhere to be found.  So, I figured since I was already there I might as well make the most of the time there and so I set off to explore the wonders of this town that Pauline Frommer's says "would barely have a pulse without its university."  When I started walking down the main drag, which was about a mile from the train station nothing was open.  So I looked at one of the randomly located maps and decided to walk to Castle Mound because who doesn't love a good castle?  Well, I walked along the street probably another mile and a half until I looked around me and realized the street name had changed and I had no clue where Castle Mound was.  So I turned back around and walked back to the city center and basically just went shopping and purchased nothing.  On the way back to the city center, I passed by Round 
Church, which I later found out was constructed in the 12th century and is the oldest of four remaining circular churches in England.  Awesome!  When I was back at the "heart of Cambridge," I did go to an open-air market and purchased some Jamaican ginger bread.  It's good, and tastes really fresh.  I was walking back toward the train station when I stopped into "MannaMexico" for some eats.  Well, I certainly wouldn't have called this Mexican food for the gods, but different strokes.  They did provide me with a "salsa" (a.k.a. brownish-red sauce) that nearly burned my tongue off.  Good thing I didn't ask them to make it spicy!  So, then I consulted my guidebook and saw that I wasn't too far from the one thing that Frommer said shouldn't be missed: some stained glass windows at King's College.  I walked the mile over to the college to find out that the college would not be open for another hour, and what was I going to do in this town for an hour?  (Besides it would have cost £5 to be inside from 1:15-2:15 and who knows if I would have been able to take photos?)  So, I bagged it and picked up a delicious chocolate petit-four and headed back to the train station.  When I got back I immediately took off my boots which had been giving me blisters as I trudged back and forth, and then took of my jeans to put on more comfortable bottoms.  Well, I looked at my legs and noticed that they were ridiculously blue, and I thought I had walked too much and my veins were about to explode.  Then I realized it was the first time I had worn my jeans, and it was the dye bleeding.  NOT my insides.  Anyway, did I mention it was raining the whole time I was there?
Oh well!  An experience is an experience!  And now I've done it!  (I don't want you to think that it was complete bust.  It really does have some lovely architecture and could be a dream come true on a day with good weather.)  


Tonight I went on a Jack the Ripper walking tour with some Wash U kiddies.  It was interesting since the tour guide was really funny.  But it was difficult to understand his explanations of theories surrounding
Jack's real identity.   (And they certainly are numerous!)  At the beginning of the tour he warned us to not respond to the "chemically unfortunate" people standing outside pubs who usually make remarks to the tour as it goes by.  Sure enough, as we walked past the pub that the guide said Kate Moss had been linked at the nostril with someone a few years back, some guy slurs to us, "He didn't do it.  He was a lesbian."  Because lesbians don't kill people?  What I did gather from the tour, however, is that Jack the Ripper was mosdef not the guy to meet on a walk home from your prostitution post.  Interesting factoid: the average prostitute was old, puffy faced, and missing a few teeth.  She wore steel toed workmen's boots to deal with difficult customers or competition and would have been in a few fights in her day.  Additionally, sex on the wall was called the "four penny knee trembler."  Cute, right?  Afterwards, Linh (the girl I was supposed to meet in Cambridge) and I went to a pub near our halls and she told me she read that they charge money for attractions in Cambridge because they want to discourage tourists from coming.  It's working!

British Pronunciation for Beginners
1) Schedule=shedjule.  Cristina thinks that this pronunciation sounds both lazy and sexual.
2) Hegemony=hegemony (assuming American would be hejemony)  I don't know why they pronounce it with a "g" sound.  It's ugly.
3) Machismo=muhckeezmo.  Do you think they also pronounce it "Macko Macko Maaaan.  I've got to be a Macko Man"?
4) Process=prOcess (American would be praw-cess)  It's awkward, but not out of line.
5) Herb=Herb (that means the "h" is heard)  I'm okay with this pronunciation as Sister Viviana told us about it in seventh grade, but Laura America seems to find real problem with it.
6) Tube=tyoube (I wouldn't bring this up but I got redirected one day, and I said, "How am I supposed to get to the tube stop?"  And the police officer said, "Well, I can help you get to the tYOUbe stop.  But not the tube stop."  Rude.
7) Taboo=tuh-boo
8) Oedipus=Eedipus

British/American Glossary
1) Jelly=American Jell-O.  
    a) Jam=American jelly
    b) So I think that in "The Night Before Christmas" maybe she meant "his belly jiggled like  bowl full of jam."  Who knows?

Saturday, 27 September 2008

Related to Being Mixed...

I'm sure my post the other day about being left out of the King's cultural mix sounded really emo of me, but it's the truth.  Anyway, I found evidence of the Indian thing that I mentioned before in some reading I've been doing while waiting for my text books to arrive.  I'm reading Danzy Senna's Caucasia, which I heard about through my moms.  Mount Holyoke assigned it as summer reading for the incoming freshman class.  Knowing how much I love mixed things, she recommended it to me.  Swell lady.  Needless to say it's tremendously better/more interesting than Wash U's assigned book when I was a freshman: One Nation, Underprivileged.  Here's one of the passages that really spoke to me in terms of its honesty and relatability:

The man next to me looked Indian.  [...]  He was staring at my face, hard, as if he knew me.  I turned to him and tried to assume my mother's hardest expression.  He didn't turn away this time.  Instead, he began to chatter to me in what sounded like Elemeno [a made up language I share with my sister].  It took a second for me to realize he was speaking his own language.  And he was fully convinced that I would understand.  He was asking me the same question, repeating it, with an expectant, friendly smile.
"Sorry, mister," I finally said.  "I don't speak it.  I speak English."  not only did I not speak his language--whatever it was--but I didn't speak Spanish or French either.  My mother had left that out of our lessons.
The man raised his eyebrows, and said, "Oh, pardon me.  I thought you were Pakistani.  Indian?"
"Nope, neither," I said, shaking my head.  "I mean, I'm American."
He laughed.  "No, but where are you really from?  Your ancestors.  Where are they from?"
"Everywhere.  I mean, before they got here, I guess they were from England and Africa.  My mom's white.  Dad's black."  
His expression changed slightly.  I had disappointed him, deeply.  He had been homesick and had seen his home in my face.  Now he turned away, no longer interested.  (377, 378-9)

(Senna, Danzy.  Caucasia.  New York: Riverhead Trade (Paperbacks), 1999.)

Anyway, I came across this passage the other day that was essentially my experience with my pre-freshman at Wash U, and what I'm sure would have happened with Leon on the scavenger hunt if he had been bold enough to be straightforward.  This book is my mixed community connection while I'm here, since there isn't a club.

(Mostly) Successfully Navigated My First Week!

Those of you who follow faithfully already know how I spent my Monday and Tuesday of the week.  Wednesday, then, began my stretch of days with class.  I decided to take the tube to class on Wednesday for my Fathers in Film class since I knew I would have to use it again later in the day to meet up with a friend.  Anyway, the class was two hours long with basically housekeeping and watching some clips (of Silence of the Lambs and some Russian movie called The Return) and talking about the introduction of the father figures in both of the films.  This class makes such a conscientious effort to survey as many regions as possible within the ten weeks of the course so as to get a well-rounded view of the changing image of the father in film since 1968 (even though we mostly will talk about post 1989).  I didn't meet any new people in the class except another American who goes to University of Michigan and will be studying at King's all year.  She actually lives in my hall, so we might walk over to screenings together, since they're Monday afternoons/evenings.  (Even though walking to screenings/classes with people is not my favorite past time, I figure there's safety in numbers.)  After class I walked home to have some soup and waited for Natasa from Accent (this company in London that Wash U hired to make our transition to being abroad easier) to come look at my room since she's meeting with Wash U people in October.  I guess she needed to see what, exactly, accommodations are like so as to give students considering going abroad a general idea of what they'll be living in for a semester to a year.  Sadly, though, she got a bit lost on her way over and so I had to walk about 10 minutes to find her as it started to rain.  Anyway, we met up and I walked her back to show her around.  Before she left, she kindly gave me a copy of one of the UC (that's right: University of California!) film courses being taught in the building where she works so that I could have access to any of the films they use, if I so chose.  So, that was really cool of her, and I might take her up on it.  (It's a British cinema course that looks pretty interesting, and she also gave me a list of all the movies that Accent has in their library if I wanted to come watch any.  Baller.)

After she left I watched some Robin Williams on Broadway (which is still crazy funny and applicable despite it being filmed some 5-6 years ago) while eating miso soup before going to meet my friend from high school Cristina who goes to UCL (University College London) at the Goodge Street tube station for coffee.  We ended up walking over to Caffè Nero and having some teas despite much confusion with the clerk who didn't understand our problem--he had made Cristina pay for everything, but we wanted separate checks.  (Actually, it was really cool; when he said "If you speak slowly, I can understand," Cristina immediately started speaking to him in Italian.  It was glorious.  In fact, there are always so many languages being spoken on the streets in London.  It really is "the world's city.")  We sat outside beneath a "typical" gray sky, which isn't the friendliest of skies, I can assure you.  After we finished, Cristina and I walked around for a bit, going through Piccadilly Circus and walking by the theatre where Josh Hartnett is performing in Rain Man.  We eventually looped back around to Green Park (near Buckingham Palace) and walked over to Harrod's, which is near the Gap where Cristina had orientation for her job.  We popped into Eat. so we could get some water and say our goodbyes.  These restaurants, despite their wide selection of sandwiches and cakes, do not have restrooms so Cristina had to go next door to steal it.  (Also, there was one weird bottled juice that said it was "made from clouds."  Strange and wondrous times around here.)  

I took the tube back to London Bridge and walked home to do some reading for the class I thought I had the next day: American Underground Cinema.  I didn't get very far before I heard people in the hallway getting ready to go to the "School Disco" Adam had told me about the night before, so I got ready only to realize that everyone was pre-gaming and I had nothing to participate with.  Adam kindly walked me to the newsagents to pick up supplies; I came back with rum and a pineapple soda called "Bigga" that 
proclaimed on the side: "I AM JAMAICAN!"  How could I resist?  Before we left, Tom and Adam disappeared for a bit with Neil.  Upon their return they displayed to the girls what Neil had done to them: shaved slits into their eyebrows to give them "chav straps," which were common when they were in college (see first British glossary).  It's a strange and unattractive fad.  When everyone was ready, we all took the tube over to Tutu's (the other campus bar) for the party.  The picture of the right is one Adam took of all of us waiting at the tube stop.  From right to left: me, Laura England, Tom, Jen, Vicky (who I went with to the V&A last post), Maddie, and Laura America.  Even though I knew how to get there, a second year basically led us from our tube stop to the Temple Street one so that we wouldn't get lost.  The Lauras kept doing head counts, and with the uniforms, I really felt like a group of kids on field trip.  When we walked into the party, we were a little disappointed by the emptiness, but within a few minutes, it got much more crowded.  Jen and Adam insisted on everyone getting "Snakebites," which they both termed the "quintessential student drink."  It's a mixture of lager, cider, and blackcurrant juice.  Basically, you could never find a more British beverage.  We ended up staying until about 2:15 and then taking a bus back to our hall.  The girls went to the kitchen and we ended up eating cheese and cookies for a bit before it was just Jen and I.  I don't know how it happened, but we ended up talking about why people are prejudiced, and basic human rights.  (I think it started with Obama vs. McCain/general conservative vs. liberal discussions.)  Anyway, that lasted until about 4:15, when we realized she had a 9am lecture and I had to rise early to finish my reading.

The following day, I managed to finish my American Underground Cinema reading before getting to my class.  Alas!  When I arrived, I saw the girl waiting outside the room clutching her Third Cinema and Beyond reader.  I had mixed up my course schedule and had done the wrong reading!  It was a true tragedy, and I felt a fool.  We went into the room and we watched four films for screening and immediately launched into a discussion of the films and reading.  I was pleased to see that only 2 people had actually done the reading, so it didn't matter much.  Trust that this will not happen again.  Class/screening started at 1pm and I was pleased to get home at about 5:30.  Usually it will go until 6.  After getting home, I waited a bit before going out for a pork and apple pasty and a chocolate chip muffin.  I really miss baking cookies.  When I get home, there will be a legitimate cookie hurricane at the Williams pad!

I had American Underground Cinema at 10am the next day, and I was surprised to find that it might end up being my favorite class.  When I had signed up for the course it was "American Independent Cinema," which is more interesting (and easier to digest) to me than Underground, but c'est la vie.  We watched a clip from East of Borneo, which Joseph Cornell used clips from to make Rose Hobart, which reminded me of basically any YouTube video a fan has made of some actress he/she loves.  Afterwards we watched Pull My Daisy!, which is narrated by Kerouac and stars Alan Ginsberg.  It's essentially one of two films that can really be considered "Beat Films."  The discussion afterwards was educational and interesting, which is perhaps more than I can say for some of the others...  In all, a success.  After class, I returned home to putz around before getting over to the market where I picked up some pitta, cereal, peanut butter (which doesn't taste as good as my Skippy from before, but it'll do, pig.  It'll do.)  and other odds and ends.  What still kind of creeps me out is that they don't keep their eggs in the refrigerated section of the market, which is strange mostly because after they buy them they DO keep them in the fridge.  I have yet to find someone to explain this to me.  

I'm most concerned about the presentations that are required in each of my classes.  The professors haven't really given any guidelines as to what needs to be included or what the format should be (that is, excepting American Underground), so I'm a wee bit nervous.  Although, the presentation and participation account for 15% of my final grade, so I suppose they aren't really the most important things.  But everyone else seems to have been doing them in every course they've taken as they are required in the department.  Meeps!

Just one more picture, where you can see most of us in costume and with our snakebites.  Again, from left to right: Tom, Laura American, Jen, Maddie, Me, and Adam.


British Glossary
1. Newsagent=A store for basically last minute needs.  All I really saw in it was alcohols, juices, candy bars, etc.  I suppose it's a 7-11 type place.
a. Spirits=What I generally call hard alcohols (rum, gin, vodka).  Maybe you already know this.
2. Pitta=Pita bread.  I don't know why they've inserted an extra t or why they pronounce it "pit-uh," but they do!
3. Chav=Commoner.  Adam said they might be termed "wigga" in America.  Neil told me to google image search "Chav."  Here are some representative results for lady chavs and guy chavs: 

Additionally, Neil says if someone can be described as a chav, "he's not for you."

Tuesday, 23 September 2008

Been Missin' Ya. Miss Kissin' Ya...

Yesterday was the first day of classes.  I took a lovely 30 minute walk over to campus to be there for my 10am American Culture and Society: 1900-1945 course in room 1B04.  Their numbering systems for rooms is kookoo for coco puffs (which, over here, has a monkey as its mascot?) and that means 1st Basement Room 04.  Weird, right?  Anyway, that class was insane.  Not insane as in it was amazingly awesome, but insane as in I wrote 5.5 pages of solid notes in a 1 hour lecture.  Apparently, when they say "lecture" around here, they are not playing around.  So, my professor, who spent the summer working on a collection of essays about Oprah Winfrey, basically sat next to her laptop the whole time reading from her notes and the powerpoint.  Anytime she paused students shook their writing hands.  It was interesting to note the self-segregation in the classroom.  All the Americans were next to each other and most of the British students sat squashed together in the front row, exclaiming about how they were in a "real classroom" now.  Mind you, I had thought the room a downgrade from what I'm used to.  Because it was in the basement, there were no windows.  The walls were cinderblocks painted white, and the desks were small chairs, like a movie theatre but without arm separators and with a wooden plank drawn across as a writing surface.  Thumbs down.  Anyway, lecture was fine.  We then went into seminar, which was much more like what I'm used to class being; more of a discussion with the professor pointing out important themes.  Both were over by twelve.  

People have been asking me about wardrobe over here (not really that many--just Amy).  Anyway, classwise, people dress the same.  I would even say I was more dressed up for class than my professor who was wearing a black t-shirt, jeans, and a black zip up hoodie.  Students(and young folk, in general) are more adventurous with clothing, I think.  Sometimes it seems that they sacrifice flattering clothes in favor of trends.  But, on the whole, they are willing to take chances with prints in a way that I haven't really seen in America.  Anyway, the idea that British students dress up more for classes would be, as far as I can tell, false.

After class, I walked down Whitehall to buy some postcards on the cheap and then crossed Westminster Bridge and walked home Bankside, which means I was walking along the Thames.  I was really craving a warm panini and a cookie for some reason, so I decided I would stop into a restaurant on the way to the halls.  Well, I saw a pub that had a good-lookin' brie and mango chutney sandwich so I stepped inside and sat down.  Well, I didn't know where to order and I couldn't really tell at the time that it was a pub so I was kind of waiting for someone to come to me.  For those of you who don't know, at English pubs, you're supposed to go up and place your order and then they'll bring it to you at your table.  Well, I failed so I quietly got up and walked outside again.  I kept walking and thought I'd go to Caffè Nero, which is this kind of Starbucks-y place with sandwiches and stuff only the line was so long, and I didn't see any paninis.  So, I ended up going to Pret-a-Manger, which is basically the exact same as Caffè Nero.  I got a falafel wrap and a piece of rectangular chocolate cake.  For Wash U peeps, it was Center Court ripoff sized, but CC cake is better.

I stopped at the post office to get stamps for the postcards, then came home and ate while reading.  I later checked my e-mail and saw that there were some free screenings I could attend, so around 4:30 I went back out to return to campus to see a screening of Bette Davis' The Letter (1940) with the score composed by Max Steiner, of course.  I wanted especially to go to this screening because it was for the class I wanted to take while I was here but couldn't: Music and Film.  (I've already taken History of the Film Score.)  Anyway, I doubly wanted to go when I found out that this course is being taught by Richard Dyer who wrote a book I read for my Race and Ethnicity on American Television course in freshman year called White.  Anyway, the movie was O-kay.  I think that I liked Dark Victory and some of her others better--I can say this because I went to the Bette Davis film festival at LACMA (Los Angeles County Museum of Art) at the beginning of the summer.  I did enjoy seeing, however, that Herbert Marshall, from Ernst Lubitsch's Trouble In Paradise (1932) that I watched and wrote a paper on in History of American Cinema was in the film.

I came back to the halls and ate some grapes and cheese before heading over to Guy's Bar with some of my flatmates to see some free comedy.  We arrived at 8:05 for an 8:00 show, so we obviously didn't get any seats.  It would have been okay except the show didn't start until 8:45 at the earliest.  The first comedienne did musical comedy by accompanying herself with a ukelele.  She was okay, but not my favorite (though her ability to turn Angela Lansbury and Disney's classic "Beauty and the Beast" song into "Beauty and Her Yeast" was relatively impressive).  The guy who went on after had his moments, but his delivery was off, and you could tell he was horribly nervous.  After a fifteen minute break, the headliner came on and he was pretty funny, I thought.  Neil, Vicky, and Mary left shortly into his act but Laura America and I stayed on.  After about five minutes, though, I could see her face in a twist because she wasn't into it, so I took one for the team and said we should go.  

I made myself some tea because my heater isn't on yet.  (Not until the winter, though I'm not really sure when that starts.)  I sat in the kitchen with Jen and Adam, who had also gone to the show but who had gone early and gotten seats, chewin' the fat for a while.  Jen and I ended up talking about Obama/McCain (since Laura America is a staunch McCain/Palin supporter--though I didn't know they existed and was shocked, and I am clearly not), British politics, driving laws, and lowering the American drinking age to 18.  Then we each went to bed.  She and Adam are, thus far, my faves.  

For some reason I have no classes on Tuesdays, so I was making a plan to go to Windsor, but that fell through when I saw it was supposed to rain today.  (Besides, Adam--a Windsorian--wasn't really making it seem like it'd be the greatest ever.  But I think I'll go in a week or two anyway.)  So I did laundry this morning, which felt good since I was out of socks, which was screwing up my mojo.  In case you didn't know, I like to wear crazy socks: argyles, Christmas, flamingos, etc.  Sadly, though, the machine doesn't give change and I thought that if it costs 20p I'd be able to put in two 10p pieces and make it work.  False.  It only accepts 20p, 50p, £1 or £2 pieces.  So I ended up losing 20p today, which was bollocks.  OH well. 

Afterwards, I had some spicy lentil soup before Vicky and I decided to go to the Victoria and Albert Museum in South Kensington.  We were supposed to go on Sunday but I had a panic attack about not having a book for class the next day and I had reading to do.  Plus I just failed.  Anyway, that museum was ridiculous.  SO much to look at that after about 3.5 hours of looking around we decided we'd have to come back another day to see the rest.  It has a ridiculous amount of things to look at.  We started one the 4th floor and had plans to work our way down.  The format of many of those rooms was interesting in that they often recreated rooms (including the ceiling!) 
so that you could almost feel what it was like to have lived there.  They've got wool paintings of Napoleon, musical instruments, early advertising posters, the works!  I was really excited to see some of the stuff they had for Gilbert & Sullivan.  My pops was in the Mikado when they did it at his high school, so I took pictures of the things they had 
that were associated with it.  They had set designs, ads, costume designs and the whole shebang in the section about how the English were in love with Japan for a while when Gilbert and Sullivan were at work.  I even listened to "If You Want to Know Who We Are;" it was all too legit.  Too legit to quit. (This is my favorite number from the show, if you wanted to know.  And you did.)  Anyway, at one point, Vicky and I were walking through one of the sculpture sections on this bridge bit 
and if you looked over the railing, it was totally reminiscent of the end of Citizen Kane.  Apparently, at the V&A they make copies of original statues all the time.  They were originally done because travel was difficult, but now they are the lasting models of originals that have been lost or damaged.  It was really cool to see all this stuff.  In the music room they had harps designed by Marie Antoinette's people!  Her People!  Also, this is really random, but there was this guy, Walpole, who was one of the first people to collect stained glass.  So he paid some Italian guy to go around the continent collecting it for him.  How baller is that?  He wanted to collect something, so he paid someone 
to do it for him.  Anyways, before ended our three hour tour we wanted to be sure to get to the fashion area where they had clothes from the 1730s and onward.  Check out the kicks they rocked 1730-40 style!  Vicky and I agreed that the shoes didn't look like they were meant to be worn outside.  Terribly unsturdy things, you know.  The real reason we went to the exhibit, though, was to see the Diana Ross and the Supremes Exhibit (as told by Mary Wilson) we had heard while in the musical instruments room, which is just above the fashion gallery.  Sadly, though we couldn't figure out how to 
get inside, but the exhibit goes until 19 October.  So, fear not, blogulators, she will be "comin' to see about you" before you know it.  I was going to put up some pictures from that exhibit, but why not do it when I've got more than two that are merely from the outside?  Anyway, in the fashion exhibit, I am terribly disappointed to say that they had a pink terrycloth Juice Couture sweatsuit.  C'est dégueulasse.   They also had Franco Moschino's "little black dress."  What a cheeky take, eh?  

Oh?  About the rain?  Well, it didn't rain at all until five minutes before Vicky and I left the halls.  It poured for like 2 minutes and then stopped.  This weather is silly!  Tomorrow brings my first film class--Huzzah!

Friday, 19 September 2008

And after two weeks with no word...

Hello, blogulators.  I was trying to think of a way to share the wonders of my 3.5 months in London and thoughts an email simply wouldn't suffice.  A blog seems appropriate (though not completely original).  Why is this blog starting so late into my excellent adventure?  Well, it was really a question of connectivity.  Both the hotel my mom and I were staying at and my dorm failed to give us access to the information superhighway.  I just got my username from the college yesterday--that's right, a full week after I had moved in--and now, I'm cruisin' with the best of them.  

So, from the beginning.  Mom and I took a glorious Air New Zealand flight from LAX to Heathrow starting Tuesday September 9th and ending Wednesday 10th September.  And when I say glorious, I mean jamazing!  The plane (2 stories!) basically had a ton of movies and television shows to watch so I caught up on a mostly media-free summer with Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Kung Fu Panda,  and My Blueberry Nights (Norah Jones' acting debut for those who don't know).  I also caught some 'sodes of The Office and 30 Rock.  For my suitehearts reading this, fear not!  How I Met Your Mother was also featured.  Mom watched a New Zealander film that made her a bit weepy as well as an episode of Ugly Betty (not her favorite) and I managed to convince her into watching some 30 Rock.   (After her first episode: "It's crazy."  After her second: "How does [Tina Fey] come up with all this stuff" Aside from the non-stop stream of delightful entertainment, we both enjoyed the down underian accents of the flight staff.  When we arrived in London at our accommodations by the Tower Bridge, mother and I immediately took a 5 hour nap.

When we awoke, Mom and I decided to take a stroll around the area.  We walked up Tower Bridge Road and across the bridge were we stood near the Tower of London before returning to the South Bank.  As we came back, mom saw a quaint cobblestone road that passed below us and so we ventures towards it for some eats.  We ended up at the Bengal Clipper--that's right, Indian!--and split two dishes and appetizers.  The food was quite good and I think from the southern region of India, which I learned today is less common than the other areas in London. If you're interested, the Trader Joe's Indian Food that you make at home was spicier.

Day two (Thursday) will surely not be topped in the future of sightseeing for a long while.  We started the day by going to the hotel restaurant to partake in their advertised breakfast.  Mom was first excited and then extremely let down by two offerings: a sunny side up egg that she deemed too plastic looking to eat and rhubarb yogurt that was not delicious.  We decided to walk over to my housing so that move-in would be that much easier but accidentally took the wrong street.  Never fear!  We found it without stopping to ask for directions.  When we got there, though, we asked someone to let us in to see where I would be living.  I'm not sure if there was a cultural barrier, but the men lazing in the lobby showed us to what I would later find out was Greenwood Theatre, which is in my building, but is not a bedroom.  Mom and I tried to figure out what was going on for a few moments before shrugging our shoulders, letting ourselves out, and making our way to the London Bridge tube station to purchase Oyster Cards.

We took the Jubilee Line to Bond Street, which is a lot like Times Square with the repetition of the same shops every few steps.  We managed to cross a few streets before arriving at Vodaphone where I "ToppedUp" my international SIM card.  (I mention crossing the street because stepping off the curb here is really taking a chance with your life.  Drivers are craycray!)  After Vodaphone, mom and I consulted our maps and determined that the British Museum was not too far and immediately set in that direction.  Because I am a fool and did not completely understand how and Oyster Card worked, I made us walk there even though there were 2--perhaps 3--stops that would have taken us closer.  


The British Museum is super baller.  Mom and I sat outside resting our feetsies in the courtyard for a bit before going inside to the roofed courtyard.  The British Museum is the world's oldest public museum (1753) and boasts the largest covered public square in all of Europe thanks to the glass and steel roof.  On top of that it's got the Rosetta Stone, Cleopatra's mummy, and the controversial Elgin marbles. (Apparently the Greek government has been trying to get these Parthenon sculptures back for over 200 years.  I guess there's a lot of talk about them since the B.M. has brochures for tourists that detail "The British Museum's Stance on the Elgin Marbles.")  Unfortunately, I was confused about which marbles they were and took pictures of a different set of marbles: Statues of the Nereid Monument.  

After that, we took the tube (of course, I went down with a fight!) to Covent Garden where we were less than impressed with its offerings: a group of ritzy shops and a street performer.  Having heard my mom say how much she wanted to go to St. Paul's Cathedral, I pointed towards St. Paul's Church, which lies across the street from Covent Garden and behind the performer's stage.  Mom and I went inside where we learned that it is considered the Actor's Church.  Fun Fact: the portico where the street performer was is in the opening scene of George Bernard Shaw's Pygmalion, known to most of us as My Fair Lady.  We thought it a loverly factoid.

We walked over to the National Gallery while splitting a blackcurrant frozen yogurt that we watched the clerk make with fresh fruit pressed into his froyo machine.  We passed by the London Palladium (only finding out what it was much later).  Among others, the National Gallery houses some Boticelli, Degas (my fave), Renoir, Van Gogh, Seurat (which made me think of Bernadette Peters belting "Sunday in the park with Geoooooorge!") and Monet.  There was also this cray cray painting that used amorphism so that it looked like this one part of the painting had been straight up pasted on top of the rest.  It only regained it's original shape if
you stood far to the right of it.  Can you tell what it is? Luckily, mom had a guide book that told us what were "must see paintings" so we were able to buzz through the museum like pros, which was important since we got there barely an hour before it closed.  We stepped outside to take photos of Trafalgar Square, which was, like everywhere else in London, crazy busy. After consulting our books that we took everywhere, we realized that the church across the street, St. Martin-in-the-Fields, was important in that it housed soldiers and the homeless during the World Wars and may or may not have hosted one of Mozart's concerts.  And anyone who has enjoyed the magic that is Amadeus can never pass up some Mozart lovin'.  That's the thing about London: it seems like every place has so much historical significance!  Anyway, we went inside and got to sit down briefly before the usher practically shoved us outside because an evening concert was about to begin.  Mom and I rested on the steps outside for half an hour until we figured out what to do next since most venues had closed at 6.

Of course, we couldn't let time hold us back so we walked down Whitehall Road towards Westminster, which had a sight to see at nearly every step.  We passed 10 Downing Street (the home of the Prime Minister--I didn't know!), Horse Guards, Banqueting 
House, Cabinet War Rooms, in addition to a memorial to the Women of World War II.  According to my guide book, "[t]he bronze monument has work clothes hanging from pegs to represent the many different work roles that seven million women took on during the war.  The Speaker of hte House who presided over the 2005 unveiling ceremony said, 'They quietly took them off at the end of the day, hung them up and let the men take the credit.'" Mom was later upset she had not taken a picture so I returned after she went home.

We ended our tour of Whitehall as a ridiculous intersection.  On one corner is Big Ben (named for the bell--a 19th century replacement--not the clock) and the Houses of Parliament and across the street is St. Margaret's Church and Westminster Abbey.  We took a ton of pictures before crossing Westminster Bridge and walking along the Thames for a while.  Across the river from Big Ben is the London Eye, which many may recall from the cinematic wonder that is Bride and Prejudice.  We then proceeded to walk past the London Aquarium (not to be confused with the nightclub called the Aquarium where people take off their clothes and go swimming) and the London Movieum (clever) on our way home.

We finally made it back to our hotel room where we practically collapsed from exhaustion.  We toyed with the idea of going to the hotel restaurant for dinner but I refused in the same way I wouldn't let us go into any of the four billion Starbuckses around the city.  We ended up going back to our cobblestone road near the Tower Bridge and eating at Pizza Express, which we both fully recommend.
We took pictures of the bridge on the way back home.  if you would like a mental image of the the street we were frequenting, think of the scene in Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame when Esmeralda takes Quasi from the cathedral.  Sure, that takes place in Paris, but who's keeping track?  Not me.

The next day Mom and I met up with my friend Lili from high school who is also studying in London for the semester.  She's staying in South Kensington.  The three of us met up at the 
Green Park tube stop at 10am to go to Buckingham Palace because Lili had heard it would be closing at the end of the month.  We walked through Green Park (the actual park, not the stop--though we did that too) before we decided to go on the State Room tour (opting out of the Royal Mews/Carriage House and Royal Gallery tours) with an audio guide.  Let me tell you, that place is ridonkulous.  Over 300 people work there, and there is basically an art museum inside.  I can't even begin to describe the scale and grandeur of it all.  The Queen has secret entrances so that she can go directly from private quarters to meet guests.  They fly in water from the River Jordan for baptisms.  They start preparing for state dinners up to six months in advance, and when the day finally arrives preparations start around noon.  There are six drinking glasses per setting and all of them are perfectly in line with the six at the place settings next to them.  (Buckingham is a Palace)  Lili said it must be boring to live there without Scrabble.  What does the Queen of England wear on her days off?  (That reminds me of another stumper: What do nudists wear on Casual Fridays?)

Because Lili wasn't busy until 2 and we had finished by 12, we hustled over to the Tate Britain, picking up Cornish pasties on our way at Lili's insistence.  I was pleased to find that the beloved potato, vegetable treats that I had thought were native to the U.P. actually originated in Cornwall.  They had a ton of options so I got sweetcorn, broccoli, and cheese while mom chose tomato, basil, and onion.  Both were good.  I thought Mom's tasted like pizza.  Lili got something with onions maybe?  Anywho, the Tate Britain houses only British art, which is kind of neat.  They also have these minty collection brochures so you can give yourself whatever kind of tour you're in the mood for.  Some standouts: "The I'm Hungover Collection," "The I'm Happily Depressed Collection," and "The I Like Yellow Collection."

Lili dipped while Mom and I kept looking, and the two of us later took the tube from that area to St. Paul's thinking we could make it inside before it closed.  We ended up sitting in the church's garden enjoying the first day of sun we had seen and agreeing to return on a different day.  We walked across the Millennium Bridge, which was constructed for pedestrians, to the Tate Modern and looked around amid tremendous masses of people.  From there, mom and I wound our way back to the hotel after stopping to pick up some Stella Artois (since I'm legal and all--over here) and some chips (a.k.a. "crisps").  What flavor?  Roast chicken, of course.  Concerned we wouldn't like them, we also picked up Chili and Lemon flavored ones.  The chicken crisps really did taste like chicken!  Mom, of course, kept it classy with some roasted almonds and Australian wine she had brought from home.  We chillaxed in the hotel room for a bit while looking for a restaurant in our books.  Once we found one we set out but got sidetracked by a pub on the way there and ended up the "Burger and a Beer" dinner they advertised.

The following day was move in.  Mom and I arrived at just after ten to check in and fill out paperwork before getting to see my room: 1001.  We sat in it for a bit before going to the hotel to get my stuff and then doubling back.  Thanks to mom's brill ideas, we manages to do it all in one trip.  After setting everything up, we went to Canary Wharf (an underground mall) to pick up some lunch and cooking necessities since it's self-catered.  That evening, mom left me in my room while she returned to the hotel.  Just after she peaced, we had an extremely brief floor meeting before going downstairs for the building activity: pizza, wine, and beers, followed by a pub crawl.  I have to say that the most noticeable difference between American and British orientation programming is the availability of drink.  At every single King's event I have been to, there has been a supply of wine and beer.  It certainly substitutes awkward sober interactions with socially lubricated, awkward drunken ones.  Anyway, I didn't know about the events in advance and hadn't made arrangements with mom, so I tried to call her but I had already used my £5 TopUp plan so I couldn't make any calls.  So I briskly walked over to the hotel and ended up video chatting with the Club and Nick while they got ready for an Ervin event at WashU.

After sorting out phone issues the next day, which wasn't so much sorting as them telling us we really had no options without a British bank account, Mom and I had a lovely Mediterranean lunch at Marouch V near Bond Street with freshly squeezed pineapple juice.  A delight!  Before our next destination, we popped into John Lewis (a department store) to get me a watch.  Dean McLeod always wears one, and I know it's one of the Habits of Achievement.  I'm spreading the Ervin love all over the globe!  Anyway, we ended up at the Wallace Collection for a quickie tour of the museum that contains many pieces that had been rendered homeless when their owners rested their heads on the guillotine during the French Revolution.  Mom hurried to get me back to the halls so that I would be there in time for the next Student Union event: the opening of Guy's Bar!  It's one of the two campus bars on King's campus, and since I live on Guy's campus, I went over with some of my flatmates.  (The other bar is called Tutu's, after King's most famous alumnus: Desmond Tutu.  It's also at the Strand Campus, which is about 30 minutes away.)

Next day was mom's last, so we made it a day of churches.  I 
didn't know that she had such a love of them, but it's the gospel truth!  We got off at the Westminster tube stop just as Big Ben was starting his longest bell ringing of the day at noon.  We crossed the street to Westminster Abbey where we took an audio tour, narrated by Jeremy Irons, of the place.  It's got a ton of baller people buried there like Queen Elizabeth I, Shakespeare, Chaucer, the Brontës, Jane Austen...  They also have the coronation chair that has been used at every coronation ceremony since 1308.  It's amazing to think that things built in the 1800s in America are so "old," but here that's just a regular building.  (Some McDonald's here look like they're in buildings from the Victorian era!)  When places start over 500 years old, it really blows your mind.  Oh, America!  What a cute little puss!

Afterwards, we took the tube to St. Paul's Cathedral where we immediately set to climbing the 528 steps to the Golden Gallery, which is at the top of the dome.  In case you were wondering, the dome at St. Paul's is 
the second largest in the world--second only to St. Peter's in Rome.  After the first set of stairs, we were let off at the Whispering Gallery where you can whisper something on one side of the dome and it can be heard across the dome, 32 meters away.  As anyone who has been in St. Louis' Union station can verify, St. Louis has got that bit down.  
We took a ton of pictures once we had gotten to the tip top and then scurried downstairs to sit briefly before realizing how little time was left before they closed for the evening service and we went down to the crypt.  We whirlwinded it but managed to see where Lord Nelson (who entered the army at 14 and has a huge monument in his honor at Trafalgar Square) and Florence Nightingale were buried.  We finished up and walked across the street to the 
memorial to the World War II firefighters who worked so hard to protect St. Paul's since it was the most bombed in all of Britain and then crossed the Millennium Bridge to get back to South Bank.  We stopped at some markets for essentials--Nutella, peanut butter, jelly--before returning to my dorm.  The whole trip, mom had been eager for us to enjoy some English fare, so after having already gotten to a pub, all that was left was fish'n'chips.  Luckily, on our walk 
back, we passed by the Anchor, which was the setting for a scene in Mission Impossible and where Samuel Pepys watched London burn in the Great Fire of 1666.  We enjoyed fish'n'chips and peas followed by treacle sponge and Cornish ice creams: toffee, chocolate, and strawberry.  It was quite lovely and felt very English.  We walked back to my dorm where we had an emotional farewell before parting.  I have to say that my biggest regret was not taking any pictures together.

Since Mum left, I've been getting to know my flat, and they're quite a lovely bunch.  Everyone on it it from England except two other study abroad students: Laura from American University and Vicky from Germany (I can't remember exactly where she's from, but it's the 5th largest city in Germany.  Most, she says, have not heard of it because it doesn't have a lot to offer tourists.)  Jen is a kooky Welsh with pink and brown hair who's studying biomedicine.  Her friend Tom lives at the end of my hall, and they took the A levels together.  Adam is my next door neighbor who's studying physiotherapy.  He worked at Toys'R'Us HQ last year in the accounting department before figuring out he didn't want to work in an office.  For some reason I thought he was from Surrey but he insists he's from Windsor.  Mary is also studying medicine and she's fro outside Wimbledon.  Neil (maths) is from Guernsey, an island with a 40 mile perimeter that you may not have heard of but it's off the coast of England.  He shared Guernsey tales with us on the first night I stayed here; from what I can gather, it seems like anytime someone murders someone else, he runs to his parents who tell him he ought to turn himself in.  Neil says the murderer doesn't really have a choice since there's nowhere else to go. Despite the low numbers of crimes, the police force does have one trained sniper.  (For more information on Guernsey, Visit Guernsey or Wikipedia that beezy.)

Aside from being dazzled by Guernsey lore, I've been going to college events for study abroad students.  Yesterday we went on a boat trip along the Thames, which was nice but I couldn't understand the driver's accent.  It's been very interesting to hear all the accents from the different regions of England.  Friday I went to the Fresher's Fair and was in line with a girl from Manchester, and hers was really light.  But Southeast Londones' accents are much harsher--more "normal" as Louisa (from the West part of London, which is considered posh) said when I marveled at the euphony of sounds around me while we went on a scavenger hunt through the city.  What I miss most about America/Wash U right now is their registration system.  If I want to switch classes, I have to personally notify the administrator and study abroad advisor of the department from which I am dropping a class as well as those people from the department where I want to pick up one.  Nothing is online!  Not that it would have mattered since I just got the internet two days ago...  I had to go to my department's meeting to find out when and where my classes were, which wasn't that helpful since I have a class in room KS 1B04.  No clue what that means.  Canadian Mark Betz, who is the head of the Film Studies program this semester told us that nothing in Britain works and that you could give yourself a heart attack trying to fight it.  I bought my course readers the other day and was pleased to find that they cost less than my American books would have.  Apparently, they don't have to worry about copyrights here, so professors can photocopy to their hearts' content, and believe you me, some of them did.  My Third Cinema and Beyond course has one reader for the Lent Term and one for the Michaelmas Term.  I have no idea when what those mean.

At the Fresher's Fair on Friday I was suddenly made acutely aware of how diverse Wash U's community is, which is not to say that KCL's is not, but I was certainly disappointed by the clubs they had.  The large majority of tables were dedicated to sport, nation(ality) appreciation, medicine, or religion.  Unfortunately, none of these really appeal to me.  I ended up signing up for Marrow (which is tangentially related to Mixed), the Film Society, and the Business Club (peer pressure).  But I was sad that there wasn't a cultural group I could really call my own.  There wasn't even an Association of Black Students (needless to say there wasn't an Association of White Students), so that it seemed almost too divided.  I was saddened to suddenly realize that I had lost that mixed community that was so important to me at Wash U.  I feel sort of disconnected from anything mixed here.  (In case you're wondering, the American was the first--and so far only--person to ask about my race outright.  It was barely an hour since we had met: "What's your heritage?"  Mom says I should have asked her what hers was.  True that.  When I was on the scavenger hung, this guy Leon was certainly trying to figure it out as he asked me where I was from.  Los Angeles.  Had I always lived there?  Yep--born and raised.  What about your parents?  American.  It was the same roundabout questioning that Indian people always use with me.  Anyone who has heard me pre-frosh testimonies knows this be the case.)

Last night I went to The Merry Wives of Windsor at the Globe, which is about a 10 minute walk from my hall (and near The Anchor that I went to with la mama).  It was really fun but when that breeze sweeps through, it bites to the bone.  Everyone was very funny and it was a really good time.  I'm glad I got to see it before the season ends on 5th October.  No pictures because I assumed I wouldn't be able to take any.  When someone who I went with puts them on Facebook, I'll put some up!  (Or maybe I'll go by at a later date!)

British-American Glossary/Recap!
1. Flat=Floor in a dorm or an apartment
a. Flatmate follows
2. Uni/University=American college
a. College=British high school
i. "Did anyone else form your sixth form come?"="Did anyone from your high school come with you?"
b. A Levels=British version of the SAT IIs.  You study specifically for your A Levels when you are in sixth form so that by the time you get to uni you've already studied your subject for two years.
c. Fresher=Freshman
3. Oyster Cards=Card for London transportation
4. TopUp=British (possibly all of Europe's?) way of dealing with phones without purchasing a plan.  I'm not exactly sure how it works, but I can already tell it's a crock.

Sorry this post is so long, but it was 2 weeks worth of fun.  Laters to be shorter.  Plomise!

This is a picture I couldn't figure out where to put.  It's the view from the South side of the Thames looking back across the Millennium Bridge at St. Paul's Cathedral.  Sweet, right?