Tales from Bakers Row

Dramatis Personae

2009-07-03T12:48:00.000-07:00

I feel like I name-drop a lot in this blog, so I thought I might give you all a quick rundown of the major players in my worldly travels.
Mary Klayder - Far and away, the most crucial player in this tale. Mary is the main facilitator of the British Summer Insitute, my honors advisor since freshman year, and just a beautiful human being.
Megan- The art history instructor accompanying and teaching us. Fairly young and a grad student, Megan is incredibly knowledgeable, which sometimes overwhelms us all. Her husband and adorable daughter are also on the trip with us.

Loren Cressler - My best friend and the one who convinced me to come on this trip. I will never forgive him ;)
Meg - A fellow London Reviewer from last spring, Meg is way cool and hangs with Loren and I quite a bit.
Kelci- Also a friend from the Review, Kelci is a fellow journalism major and just a cool chick.

Tim - Tim was my roommate for most of this trip and an infinitely cool dude. He is quite musical, and we suspect has the power to apparate.
Colby - Colby and I seem to not get along, but I like the guy. He's a frat guy, which explains the friction between us, but he is a decent, solid fellow, and very intelligent.
Brian - Brian and I are kindred spirits in many ways, sharing a similar sense of humor and taste in many things. He is also one of the most laid-back people I have ever met.

Rachel - Rachel is a soon-to-be sophomore that often tags along with Loren and I. Also, she knows some of my friends from back home, her associations with whom make her pretty cool.
Taryn - A regular hoot, Taryn at first came off as loud and obnoxious to me, but I quickly grew to like her just fine. We have a very playful, banter-filled relationship.
Meghan - I will admit that, at first, I assumed a few things about Meghan based on her membership in a sorority. However, all my preconceived notions of her were wrong, and I enjoy talking with her quite a bit.
Julia - Julia is quite possibly the funniest person on this trip, and one of the most naturally funny people I have ever met. She thinks I hate her, but nothing could be further from the truth.
Abbie - Abbie and I go way back in the J-School, and she is a certifiable badass.
Andrea - Andrea is really sweet and funny Theta girl, along with Taryn. She's pretty chill.
Hannah - One of the most excitable people I've ever met, Hannah could be enthusiastic about nearly anything.

If I mention anyone else in the blog, I will be sure to update this with just who they are. There are only about 10 other people on this trip.

I'm Never Leaving. You All Can Just Deal

2009-07-01T12:41:00.000-07:00

It is difficult to express in words just what the last few days have been or meant. The last week and a half has been a whirlwind tour of Edinburgh and the Scottish Highlands, both places of true atmosphere and beauty. Now I'm back in Edinburgh, with time to relax, reflect, and write.
We arrived in Edinburgh last Wednesday evening, and found ourselves in comfortable single rooms at the Pollock Halls of Residence, University of Edinburgh. It was nice to have a space to myself, but I have to admit, for those several days and now the next several days, they make for a somewhat more lonely experience. Having come to love each and every person on this trip, it has become custom to spend most of each day in the company of others. Our communal living situation previously has lead to creativity, hilarity, and close bond forming between many of us.
Edinburgh is a beautiful city. I'm not sure I have anything negative to say about it. Like London, it has everything I could ever need, and an incredible sense of history. Very unlike London (in a very good way), it feels much smaller, much less rushed, and it's a university town to boot. The entire city is darkly atmospheric, in a fog and mystery sort of way, especially up around the Royal Mile, where the Castle is at. I really dig all the dark stone and semi-Gothic architecture.
Our first full day here, we got a guided tour of the Royal Mile from Lauren Stewart, a KU grad who is here studying linguistics. It was very interesting to hear about the history of the city and its landmarks. One tale that really struck me was that of Burke and Hare, the bodysnatchers. Google it. It's a pretty gruesome story, but makes great material for budding writers.
After the tour, we went out for a pint at the Southsider, a fairly nice pub, and one we would revisit several times. Loren and I spent the rest of the day becoming acclimated with the city before our group dinner at Karen Wong's Restaurant, a delicious little Chinese place just down the street from the dorms we are staying in.
The next day was one packed with museums. As a group, we all met at the Scottish Museum of Modern Art. Nearly half of the galleries here were taken up with works by Damien Hirst. If you are at all familiar with who that is and what he does, it was exactly what you would expect. Now, if you aren't, let's just say it involved a lamb floating in a tank of formaldehyde, lots of fish skeletons trapped in glass, and cabinets full of medical anatomic models.
Much more impressive to me were the works in the Dean Gallery, which was across the street. It had a number of Paolozzi sculptures which I really love. There's a piece of his called Vulcan, which I thought was going to step on me. As with most works of art, it really has to be seen to be understood.
That night, we ate semi-crappy, but really cheap hamburgers at the Crags, the pub right across the street from our dorms. It is really convenient to be so centrally located in Edinburgh. To be honest, I can't remember much of what transpired between there and the next evening, mostly because nothing really happened. I probably did a lot of reading Wuthering Heights. Oh, and I wrote a couple papers, one for each class. If anyone cares to see a visual analysis of the Yorkminster Chapter House or a comparison of the social roles of male characters in Persuasion and Wuthering Heights, just ask. However, Saturday night, Loren, Meg, Abbie, Meghan, Rachel, Kelci, and myself all went out to a club called Electric Circus, to see a burlesque show. Loren, Meg, Abbie, and I had a lot of fun, but the others did not so much.
The next day it was off to the Highlands for a little trip, and I will leave that for another post.
Cheers!

Unworthy Post

2009-07-01T12:25:00.000-07:00

I know I've become very lax about posting here, but we've been a bit swamped with travel and work. Remind me to tell you all about: Edinburgh, the Highlands, Edinburgh again, and Glasgow. Until then, settle for the list of tunes I've discovered/have had on repeat for the last couple weeks.
BSI 2009 Playlist
Alright - Supergrass
My Girls - Animal Collective
Get Older - Dan Deacon
Sushi - Kyle Andrews
Little Secrets - Passion Pit
Search & Destroy - Iggy Pop & The Stooges
Lasso - Phoenix
Murder in the City - Avett Brothers
The Greatest Sum - Avett Brothers
Clawhammer Medley - Steve Martin
Over the HIlls and Far Away - Led Zeppelin
Streams of Whiskey - The Pogues
Eli. The Barrowboy - The Decemberists
Shove It - Santigold (And in the same vein, Brooklyn Go Hard - Jay-Z)
I know it's not much, but there's a lot of feeling there. I'll try to get on it soon, after I get my journals and homework for Art History done.

The Lake District

2009-06-26T03:36:00.000-07:00

A Tourist's Lament

I long to break free
from this cage of glass and steel
to escape the confines of the coach
and learn again how to feel

Too long have I misread beauty
in false shape and guise
When here now I travel
where the grace of Nature lies

Cast me now from this prison
to wander out among the dales
to climb and conquer the ancient land
and roam here til my body fails

The I shall make my mistress

I never want to leave here.

On To York

2009-06-21T13:36:00.000-07:00

Still playing catch-up here with the blog. I will try and post pictures as soon as I can, although all the good ones went on Facebook, and the last couple days I haven't been able to take any (on account of forgetfulness).

We left the flats early Friday morning to hop on the coach to York. I was the last person out the door, as anyone that knows me probably could have guessed. Our northward coach tour of the English countryside took us first to Haworth, the small village on the moors that played home to the famous Bronte sisters. This was of course relevant to our reading of Wuthering Heights (which I still need to do). Upon our arrival, a great number of us trekked out on the moors, giving all quite a hike. It was chilly and windy out there, but very atmospheric for a beautiful but admittedly gloomy landscape. When we returned to the village, we went to the Bronte parsonage, which has now been turned into a museum dedicated to this literary family. What I found fascinating is the existence of a Bronte brother, Branwell, which I never knew. Apparently, he was quite a troubled genius, whose alcoholism and opiate addiction lead to a young death.
The village Haworth itself was a quaint little place, where I enjoyed a fantastic cup of tea at a little tea shop on a winding cobblestone street. It was definitely a place I could see inspiring something like Wuthering Heights, though.
After the Bronte parsonage and a few hours in Haworth, we hopped back on the coach for a dizzying, winding, and bumpy ride for the next several hours into York. We unloaded the coach in front of the bed & breakfast and set our gang on York. Meg, Brian, Colby, Loren, and I went to dinner at a nice little wine bar & grill in the city center. I ate a fantastic plate of Italian meatballs, with rice and a spicy tomato sauce. It would probably be possible to do an entire blog just based on culinary adventures, although I probably know as much about food as I do art history (none).
After dinner, we all came back and just chilled for a little bit. I soon passed out watching the BBC News, only to awaken sometime near 8 the next morning, my computer blaring Iggy & The Stooges (Search & Destroy is my alarm). That really got me jacked up for the day. We all ate a deliciously large English breakfast and then headed over to see the Yorkminster cathedral. It was enormous and grand, just as most of the churches we've been to so far. A few of us went up into the tower, which was a bad idea for me. I had no idea how terrified I was of heights until I was climbing the 270-odd steps up to the top of Yorkminster. I was literally shaking (Some of that might have been embarrassment).
The rest of the day I spent wandering around The Shambles (the city center of York), going to the various markets and shops. I managed to pick up a couple really good sci-fi novels for really cheap. I'm going to have buy a whole 'nother bag just to carry back all of the books that I bought. The Shambles is a pretty unique area. As with most of the landscapes on this trip, it is a place that makes me imagine grotesque or Gothic fantasy scenes playing out across it. Here in York, I could imagine markets and shops selling curiosities, mad street performers, and ghosts lurking in the shadows. Most of the rest of it was pretty uneventful though.
That night, I got conned into going to Yates, a club that allegedly had "fun" music and lots of dancing. We got there, and Brian, Tim, and myself found ourselves out of our element and immediately miserable. Parts of it were tolerable (especially after a few drinks), but mostly I didn't like it. When we got back, Tim, Colby, and I got into a political argument. It was pretty rough, but we were all ok with it the next day.
The next day was our trip to Castle Howard. The "castle' was really just a large country mansion, with manicured gardens, an immense fountain in the shape of Atlas, and a really ostentatious Mausoleum with enormous pillars and a self-important aire. Unfortunately, my camera battery died when we got there, so I had no way to photograph it. I thought much of it was very beautiful, and I wish I had some pictures to post. After the castle visit, we came back, ate at nice little pub, watched Colby lose a bunch of money to a quiz game there, and then went back. I tried to get some work done, eventually failed, and that was pretty much it.
The next day was on to the Lake District. Get ready for loads of pictures...

Moving On - Our Last Week in London

2009-06-21T02:14:00.000-07:00

Hey folks, I apologize for not having posted in the last week. It’s been a whirlwind tour of the English countryside so far, with loads of work and little internet access.

It all began last Tuesday, when our group took a day trip to Stonehenge and the city of Bath. It was several hours on bus made totally worth it by virtue of the sights. Stonehenge was fairly cool, but made less cool by way of the rope that prevented us from actually going up to the stones. While we were there, Mary made us attempt to form a human Stonehenge, which we (I) failed miserably at. After making about a million Spinal Tap and European Vacation jokes, buying our Stonehenge keychains and trying to find out how to become Druids, we got back on the bus to go to Salisbury cathedral.
The cathedral was fascinating, and it was sort of amazing to visit a place that we’ve seen a few dozen times in our Art History class. In the cathedral gift shop, Loren, Tim, and I found the most amazing Stonehenge shirt, so we of course had to buy it. Its majesty is nearly indescribable.
Finally, we ended our day in Bath, site of the ancient Roman baths and resort town for England’s Victorian nobility. Although I thought the Roman baths were pretty sweet by virtue of still being there, despite being built more than a millennia ago, I wasn’t such a big fan of the city itself or the atmosphere. The economic realities have changed significantly since Austen wrote Persuasion, but the vibe of the city is much the same. It might not be landed gentry going to Bath on holiday, but it is effectively now a tourist trap for the upper-middle class (People who shop in Disney stores).
After bumming around Bath for a while, we came back to London and attempted to get some work done (which of course with us never happens). It must have been a pretty uneventful evening, because I don’t really recall it. I suppose that means it might have been a very eventful one too.

Wednesday was a big day for much of the group, but not so much for myself. We got up, went to class, did the whole routine, and then Loren and I went to sightsee and grab some lunch. After having a Whopper (It’s been a while), we met everyone else at the theatre to watch Hamlet, starring Jude Law, which all the girls went nuts over. Personally, I was happier to see Gertrude played by the actress who did Shaun’s mom in Shaun of the Dead. The play was merely ok in my opinion, as it seemed like all of the other actors held back to let Jude’s star power shine, and he also never really became Hamlet for me. There’s no doubt that he’s a good actor, and that he made for a powerful Hamlet, but he still just seemed to be merely Jude Law.
Once the play was over, I went with Colby, Rachel, and Loren to get dinner, but ended up ditching them to go back and work on my paper. I thought that here I wasn’t going to be as stressed as home was making me, but I still had a stress freakout and abandoned them at the Tube station. I don’t really know what came over me. It was probably a good thing, however, because I got back a wrote a decent paper on the subversion of the idea of marriage in Mrs. Dalloway and Waiting for Godot. When my paper was mostly done, I went to bed way late and got up way early to finish it.

Thursday was our final day in London until we come back to catch the flight home. After a shortened class, a few of us went clothes shopping, at which I spent way too much money and have more pairs of jeans than I really know what to do with. We made a special detour so Taryn could get a Hard Rock London shirt, and then attempted to go find John Keats’ house. It took a long Tube ride and a load of walking around Hampstead to find, but we got there. Only to find that it was closed until the end of July. I snapped a couple photographs of the tree that he wrote under, but was slightly disappointed. Also, I’m not sure how I felt about the Hampstead area. It was nice, and slower paced for sure, but also seemed way upper class and kind of snobby.
The final real event of the day was our group dinner at the Ravi Shankar restaurant. It was coastal Indian cuisine, and it was delicious. While disappointed at first that they didn’t serve any meat, I ordered a Panka Dosa (I believe), and it was simply fantastic. I topped it off with a dessert of Mango Kulfi, and was thoroughly satisfied. It seemed as if many in the group did not appreciate it, which I don’t understand. Some people on the trip are not culinarily adventurous in any way, and I’m baffled. If there’s any time to try crazy new foods, it’s right now, when you’re young and have a strong constitution. Who knows, you might even like it.
We returned to the flat after dinner and went to work on catching up on our journals, which ended up taking the last of us (myself included) until 4 am. Between that and packing to leave Friday, I didn’t get much sleep.

I think I’ll end this post here, with us leaving London, and return to our post-London adventures in the next one. I know you all don’t want to read pages and pages of me rambling all at once.

Playing a Little Catch-up

2009-06-16T13:31:00.000-07:00

I know it's been a while, but this week has been super busy. Here's on update on my weekend, and I'll try to follow it up with a written post about the last couple days. We've done Stonehenge, Bath, Salisbury Cathedral, and seen Jude Law in Hamlet, so there's a lot to talk about.
Cheers

SoHo Nights

2009-06-12T17:08:00.000-07:00

Londoners of every flavor
spilling into the streets,
touching glasses to lips
and pressing words to ears.

We find ourselves mesmerized,
wandering to pause on cobblestones,
only to be corralled in
by flashing lights and people-herders.

Pretensions of exclusivity aside,
the establishment is welcoming and boisterous.
Beats pound and the band plays on,
clouding the night's soundscape.

We all drinkdrinkdrink and smile on,
but my head cannot stay.
With conversation prevented here
I desire a more rhetorical setting.

A place more placid than this,
where voices can be heard
and opinions raised forthwith,
without a troubling din about.

And now, I am gone from there,
pondering loss and separation.
Much as I desired to drop out of that scene,
it comes head on at my wandering thought.

Although the wanting comes in waves,
comfort can be found here
in knowing that British white people
dance as awful as American white people.

We're Waiting for Godot

2009-06-12T04:37:00.000-07:00

Hello world
Today is the first day I've been able to actually sit down, put my feet up, and relax (although I do have a massive amount of homework to do for Monday). Last night marked the beginning of our free weekend, during which most of us are doing absolutely nothing. I was considering a day trip to either Dublin or Paris, but those plans fell through because of time and financial concerns. Look at it this way though, if I were to ever get into grad school at Oxford, I'd have plenty of time to do all that.
This weekend is a nice little detox session from the constant, on-the-go attitude we've been maintaining for the last several days. After Tuesday's disastrous bus ride back from Oxford that took nearly 2 hours longer than it should have, I was only able to sleep for about 4 hours before having to get up and go to class again the next morning. No one was really awake for that class, and Colby and I even got a little lost riding the bus to get there, so the discussion wasn't very lively.
Despite still having the incredible capacity to get myself lost in London, it seems as though we are all becoming more acclimated to the city's center and even more so with our little neighborhood near the flats. In the process of writing this post, I have gone out to grab a quick soda, and felt much as though this small patch of London was my home. I could definitely see myself living here, and if Oxford is in my future (doubtful), then it is a distinct possibility. However, I'm sure that living in a city like this would be complete sensory overload for me, with so much to do and see every single day.
Between class and our dinner, we didn't have any required group visits, so a number of us went to see the Banqueting Hall at Whitehall Palace, the room in which Charles I used to receive foreign dignitaries. The Hall has an beautifully painted ceiling done by Peter Paul Reubens, and it is one of the works we are supposed to eventually write about for the course. The center of the ceiling is a painting depicted the coronation of James, Charles' father, with several other scenes painted above and below, including four oval works of the "triumphs over Vice". It was all fairly fantastic, and all a part of Charles' foreign policy, making himself and England appear strong and virtuous to visiting diplomats.
After the Banqueting Hall, us guys just kind of hung out at the flat until meeting everyone at Wagamama's for dinner. The restaurant is a decidedly posh Asian cuisine restaurant. I ordered a Chicken Katsu Curry with some Plum Wine to drink, and both were fantastic. I was a little skeptical, as it smelt like a green curry (gross!), but I was pleasantly surprised to find it quite delicious. For dessert, I had chocolate cake with wasabi dark chocolate sauce, which I was also wary to try, but happy that I did.
During dinner, I talked to Mary about my plans for the future (this seems to be a recurring theme), including a desire to apply for Teach for America. After all the recent reports about a low acceptance rate for the program, I was very worried that I wouldn't have the involvement and volunteering chops to get in. Mary assured me that I was a shoe-in, especially for a position in Kansas City, which I hoped for as my first choice. So far much of this trip has been a giant reassurance and confidence-booster. I'm feeling quite a bit more in-control and carefree here.
I'm fully blissed out here, as Nick would say, but I'm feeling certainly uncertain about that. I was in a funk when I left Lawrence, and I'm so removed from the that entire world that it concerns me not while I'm in the UK. That blue period truthfully had a large influence on my decision to come to England this summer, and so far it has been successful in drawing my mind from it all. It is a great fear of mine that when I return in a mere month that I'm going to fall right back in that funk. I've already accomplished much here, much that isn't reversible. Lots of connections have been made, with Mary, Megan, Jay Sexton, Ann Scofield, and of course, all of the great great students on the trip. Hopefully the feeling won't fade back in the States.
Anyway, after dinner we went to the Haymarket Theatre and saw Patrick Stewart & Ian McKellan in Waiting for Godot. It. Was. Brilliant. We're talking two of the finest actors that have graced the screen and stage in recent years starring in Samuel Beckett's classical tale of ambiguity. The play itself cannot be described in words really, and with these two, it was difficult to even think about as well, we were so awe-struck.
There wasn't much to do after Godot, other than just chill back at the flat and talk. So that's what we did, and that sums up my Wednesday. Thursday wasn't really too exciting. We went to the Tate Britain Museum, but everyone was so drained after Megan's whirlwind tour of the entire history of British art from the Tudors until now that we could hardly stand, let alone process what we just witnessed. After the museum, I spent about 4 hours traveling to get tickets for Romeo & Juliet at the Globe and then back to the flat. There's been a Tube strike the last few days, and the bus system is not nearly as efficient, so going anywhere takes 2-3 times as long as it should.
Last night, a large group of us went out to an Italian restaurant around the corner, which turned into a fiasco. It was a great example of the differences in culture between here and home. The place we ate at was very similar to most restaurants in downtown Lawrence, and at home places like that are often loud and humming with conversation. However, the British patrons of the Spaghetti House were not amused with our boisterous antics and looked quite frustrated with our presence. Also, I feel like when a group of college-age young people get a table, it is expected that they will be paying individual, but trying to pay here was like pulling teeth. The waiter told us we could not all pay individually, so we had to figure out a very convoluted payment and repayment system for all ten of us.
After dinner, we all came back and drank Strongbow.
Cheers!

Does This Look Like Hogwarts?

2009-06-10T05:44:00.000-07:00

Blogger has been giving me some issues, or maybe it's my internet connection. Here's my vlog from yesterday, finally. I don't know when I'll get today's post up, or the images from Oxford, but as soon as I can keep the connection from timing out, I will get something to you all!
Cheers!

As You Like It

2009-06-08T16:47:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure this is a sustainable situation. Maybe for a month though. Let's hope so, right?
I say that because every part of me is exhausted from today. And from yesterday. I'm exhausted from tomorrow already, and it hasn't even happened yet. I'm mentally and physically sore, and am entirely ready for sleep. But we've just gotten back from the pub, which might explain that.
Today we got up near 7:30 and went to class again around 9. Class was interesting, as we discussed both Mrs. Dalloway and the Elgin Marbles. I didn't speak up much today, as we never really got round to the ideas I had floating around in my head about both of the topics. With regard to Mrs. Dalloway, all I could think about when reading and discussing was the comparisons between the London that Woolf presents and the London of today, specifically socioeconomically and politically. I could relate the overt class-consciousness of the era of Clarissa Dalloway to the more subtle relationship between white Britains and the growing immigrant population. Instead of the traditional class divisions, we have the upper-middle class young people, like those that live in Islington (the district we're staying in), being "served" by the immigrants that open and run shops, convenience stores, grocers, et cetera. It seems like I could hold up a Mrs. Dalloway and today's face of London and play "Spot the Difference".
After class, I walked with a gang (or gaggle) of the girls over to the National Portrait Gallery, grabbing a bite to eat along the way. We arrived once more at Trafalgar and waited to meet up with Megan so she could give us a semi-guided tour. The Portrait Gallery was really fascinating. The first room I saw was full of Shakespeare, his gang, and other Jacobites. One of the galleries I found most interesting was one depicting the Royalists, Parlimentarians, Olver Cromwell and all that (See British history of the mid-16th century). I had quite a time trying to find ways the painters visually distinguished the Royalists from the Parliamentarians. For me personally, one of the most moving galleries was that with portraits of the Romantic poets. Byron looked like, well, like you would expect Byron to, and the portrait of Keats really moved me.
All of the more modern portraits were unique in their own ways, and the John Constable exhibit we were required to see was cool, but I don't have much more to say about them. Oh, well I guess the photo of Patrick Stewart was badass and they had a painting of Dame Judy Dench that was taller than me.
Once the portrait gallery trip was all finished up, we walked back up to the British Museum once more, to take a second look at the exhibits there, and to look even more closely at the Sutton Hoo artifacts. Any time spent there is always worth it, as you can just turn the corner and find yourself in front of some of the greatest archaeological finds of the last 300 years. The group soon had their fill of marbles and mummies, and we head back to the flats. Being hungry again as we were by this point, Julia, Rachel and I went out and grabbed a bite to eat at the Wilmington Arms pub.
After I had washed down my burger with a pint, I returned to the flat, and then we all departed for the Globe Theatre, all the way on the south side of the Thames River, a long tube ride from here. At the Globe, we watched a production of Shakespeare's As You Like It, and it was simply brilliant. As Loren said, it was kickass. I had never read the play, but I thought it was phenomenal. The characters of Touchstone and Jakewheeze were by far the best acted, but the "hero" Orlando was fairly brilliant as well. Experiencing this in the Globe was really the best way to do it, hands down. When we left the theatre, I snapped a few good shots of St. Pauls Cathedral and the river skyline at night.
The trip back was long, and all of the girls were tuckered out by the end, but Colby, Loren, Brian, and myself went over to the Exmouth Arms before hitting the hay. We sat there just chilling and listening to VH1 Classics for a good couple hours, and when we came back to the flat, we found Tim with his girlfriend, who is studying here in London. She seemed really nice, and we sat around and talked for a few more hours. Before I knew it, it was two in the morning...which is now.
I've got to get some rest before Oxford tomorrow!
Cheers all!

First Video Update!

2009-06-07T15:59:00.000-07:00

Hallo Everyone!
I'm way too wiped to attempt to write a whole long post for today, so i will attempt to do it in video form. Let's see how this 3works out. Although, from the looks of it, I'm too long-winded and the video ends up being way too huge to upload in a timely fashion. Big surprise, right?

Becoming Londoners

2009-06-06T17:00:00.000-07:00

I would love life here if every day were this fantastically full, but I would be exhausted, physically and mentally. I'd probably be in better shape though. Maybe it'd be alright then.
This morning, all five of us guys got together and walked to our classroom, a seemingly straightforward affair. However, we ended taking the long way there, going all the way up near King's Cross Station and the British Library. Two places I for sure want to visit, just not today. After about an hour of walking, we got there, with Mary standing outside the building and pacing, waiting for each group to arrive.
It was nearly an hour later that the final group of girls arrived, the very same group we had offered to take with us this morning, and who had declined our gracious invitation. That sure showed them to not trust us and our Londoner sense of direction.
Class began, and Mary talked to us about the major themes that run through all of our readings, and really all of British literature. Issues of class, class conflict, war, rebellion, and generational change permeate everything we are to study on this trip, issues that forever fascinate me. We also talked for a bit about Mrs. Dalloway, one book that is for sure growing on me. I didn't get to speak my peace on it in class, but the opening scenes appear to me cinematically, as a changing of camera angles and point-of-view, to see the same scene from different angles. I realize that means nothing to most people, but I really dig it. Virginia Woolf makes me feel like a terrible person though, and that I will never accomplish anything, because I can't pull anything off as beautifully and amazingly rich as she can. That got me thinking about what, as an artist, or just person in general, I can do to set myself apart and establish my work as an individual.
This trip is one that is almost purely personal in scope for me. I chose to put myself into debt to come here for probably selfish reasons, amidst personal turmoil. It is escapism, it is introspection, it is a journey not only of the United Kingdom, but of my own psyche at points. Although I have much coursework to do within the confines of hectic city life, I am hoping to still have time to work on personal projects. Ideas have come to me for stories, and novels, and other works, but I simply have been unable to work on them with the constant distractions back in Lawrence. Most recently, I've been toying with the idea of a tribute to the scientific romances of old, a far-flug adventurous journey across alien landscapes, made by someone nearly as nerdy as myself.
The second half of class was actually pretty intimidating, as it was our art history course. I know very, very little about art or art history, and the assignments sound quite daunting. We are required to visit various sites around the city and analyze them, something I have absolutely no idea how to do.
Class didn't last very long this first day, being the introduction and all, so when it was over, we all headed to the basement of the ACCENT building to print off the assignment sheets none of us bothered to look at before the trip. Loren and I once more lead a large group back to the flats, stopping at a quick takeaway shop for lunch.
After a few of us spent some time relaxing in the flat, we all headed off for the National Gallery, to meet Mary and Megan there to see some quite famous paintings. We wandered for a while looking for the Farringdon tube station, only to find that it was closed for the day. Eventually we came to the Chancery Lane station, which got us to Trafalgar square with only one changeover. On the stairs down to the platform, I saw a young man helping a woman carry her stroller, child included. At first I thought he must be her husband, as they appeared the same age. However, once on the platform, he walked away. This lead me to ponder upon the depths of human kindness. Despite the amount of evil in the world, we are still capable of loving one another as we do ourselves. And to me, it is more difficult to help someone you could not know with something very small than either someone you know or something very big. Normally, one would think, "oh, she doesn't need help, she can handle it herself," but to help someone with something that is merely a bother rather than difficult really shows how far we humans will go for one another.
Anyway, we came out of the Leicester Square tube station right in to Trafalgar. I had forgotten how incredible it all was. Nelson's Column, the beautiful fountains, the National Gallery, they were are quite awe-inspiring. Here we met the rest of the group and went in to the Gallery, with Megan the Art History Professor as our guide.
In the museum, we talked about the the Wilton Diptych, the van Eyck wedding portrait, The Ambassadors, the equestrian portrait of Charles the I, and the works of the British Romanticists. If I didn't have to write papers on these, I would go further in to detail, but I have much writing to do on them anyway. I may post some of it here, if I can. After the required site visits, I visited the Picasso exhibit with several others. What was here was his much lesser-known works, and I found it hard to keep concentrated on them for very long. In one of the larger galleries, I sat down on a bench and started writing in my journal. Before I knew it, I had been sitting there for nearly half an hour, and everyone else was getting ready to leave.
Nearly the whole group departed together for our dinner at Pizza Express. Despite the name, this restaurant is about a far from fast-food pizza as it gets. In fact, it is a quite posh Italian restaurant, the kind in which you drink red wine with your meal, which I in fact did, washing my Pollo ad Astra pizza down with a large glass of Merlot. I sat across the table from Mary at dinner, and all of us at that end of our (quite long) table had wonderful conversation the whole meal. I talked to Mary about fiction, science writing, and science fiction for what seemed like an hour. This seems to be a recurring conversation topic with us, and it spread to me having conversations about SF with several other people as well. All in all the dinner was pretty wonderful. I finished it off with a heaping helping of tiramisu and headed with the gang back to the flats to reconnoiter.
On the walk back, many of us decided that we wanted to go out tonight, so when we got back, I got dressed and headed out with all five of us guys, plus Taryn, Julia, Rachel, Kelci, Bethany, Abbie, Dorie (sp?), and Andrea. Loren and I had scoped out the area earlier and found a pub that looked pretty hoppin', but it turned out to be reserved for a wedding reception, so we ended up at a quaint little place called the Wilmington Arms. The place is pretty laid back and nearby, so I could see all of us spending quite a bit of time here.
At the pub, I had myself an Imperial pint of Hoegaarden (sp again?) and some more fantastic conversation with everyone that went. As I said before, this is a really great group, and we are all getting on just wonderfully. I know it is only the second day here so far, but I hope that many of us stay friends after this trip.
Well loyal readers, I'm a little tipsy and a lot tired, so I'm going to sign off once I get done on Facebook.
Goodnight all.

The Lost Day

2009-06-06T14:16:00.000-07:00

8:15 a.m., June 6, 2009
Despite running on no sleep, yesterday was a full day. We arrived at the flats late in the morning, guided by our liason with the ACCENT office, Sorrel. After dropping off our luggage and grabbing a jacket, she showed us around the neighborhood. Right around the corner, we have a grocer's, a pharmacy, a coffeeshop, and few restaurants. Apparently, there's a weekend market right down the street.
After this brief tour, us guys got settled in to our flat. The five guys on the trip are myself, Loren, Brian, Colby, and Tim. So far, it seems as if the entire group is going to get along pretty well. Both of my British adventures have turned out great in this respect.
We went to the grocer's to pick up some light lunch food supplies for the flat. It was interesting to see how British grocery items differ from those in the States. The staple items: bread, cereal, meat, cheese, milk, they are all very similar, but yet somehow just a little bit off. The frozen section here is a mix of British and Indian cuisine, the sugary cereals have different mascots and titles, and the cheese is never pre-sliced. The hot deli is stocked with chicken tikka masala and pastries stuffed with chicken curry. Considering myself something of former grocer, I find this very interesting.
Upon returning to the flat, we entrenched ourselves and attempted a very American activity: watching television. There was a brief tussle with the set, as it was reluctant to turn on for us.
Flipping through the channels, we found some interesting fare. Top Gear, news channels, the British equivalent of MTV (except they actually played music videos) and an inhumanly creepy kids' show. featuring two horrendous puppets, Riley and Scruff. Eventually we found coverage of the French Open and settled on that. Today there was much settling.
Soon enough, it was time for us to go to orientation at the ACCENT office. Our guide again came 'round the flat and led us across central London to the destination, which happened to be in a neighborhood that I knew quite well. It was near the hotel from my last stay here, the British Museum, and a tight little place called Gosh Comics. On this walk, anyone could easily spot all the male BSI students literally swoon over the admittedly beautiful British babe leading us.
Orientation was a fairly standard affair, designed to acclimate us with residing in the city. Many of us were nodding off as issues of safety and proper procedure were being explained. I struggled to keep my head up so as not to seem rude, but I was on the verge of passing out entirely for quite some time. When it was all said and done. we departed once more for Bakers Row.
In front of the street leading to our new homes, Loren, Brian, and myself met up with several of the girls, some of whom I must admit I still do not know by name. We all grabbed cheap sandwiches for dinner and then went our respective ways at No. 20.
Upon returning, we three men pretended like we weren't all that tired before promptly passing out. I woke several times during the night, but did not finally get out of bed until about 7:00 this morning.
These Coco Pops were not as tasty as I had hoped.
We must run to class now.
Cheers.

Reasons It's OK I Forgot My iPod

2009-06-05T05:01:00.000-07:00

Sometime after 8:30 p.m. local time
We've just left Cleveland and are now somewhere above the Eastern seaboard, on our way, officially now, to London. Our group is intermixed with several others on the plane, including the British family I am seated next to. On my other side, is Mary Klayder, reading her eBook device. Most of us are engrossed in the little TV sets in the backs of the seats, including myself.

Albums found in the In-flight Entertainment Centers:
The Beatles, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.
Michael Jackson, Thriller
LL Cool J, Radio
James Brown, The Best Of
Guns & Roses, Appetite for Destruction
David Bowie, The Best Of
Creedence Clearwater Revival, Chronicle
Bob Dylan, Highway 61 Revisited
The Who, Who's Next
Led Zeppelin, Led Zeppelin IV
Prince, Purple Rain
Lady GaGa, The Fame

As I listen to Stairway to Heaven, and they pass out our evening drinks, I feel as though I should be starting Wuthering Heights soon. Mary and I just discussed how I could use her iPod, because it shares many musical similarities to the one I left in Concordia.
I've been talking quite a bit with Mary about science writing and science fiction. When I mentioned wanting to see Charles Stross, one of my absolute favorite SF writers at the moment, she suggests that through her many connections, she might be able to arrange for me to meet with him. I am somewhat in disbelief at this notion, that it would be so simple to meet with someone I hold in such regard, as not even a real person. Sometimes I forget that (with a few exceptions) writers are not often seen as celebrities, and that despite having dedicated fanbases, are probably not regularly mobbed on the street.

6:55 a.m., London time
After attempting to start Wuthering Heights, and getting about 20 pages in, I decided to go back to Dalloway. Before I can get back in a London state of mind, they turn the lights out on me. So I watched Ferris Bueller. I was about halfway through that when I decided that I was too tired to try and keep my eyes open any longer, so I put on some tunes and tried to get some sleep. After spending about an hour and a half in and out of sleep in what amounted to a Gitmo detainee stress position, I awoke to find not only that the sun was up, but that I was sitting next to the only open window on the plane.
With the sun in my eyes and our flight nearing the Irish coast, about an hour and a half out form London, I received a delightful little breakfast. They served us a fruit cup of grapes, melons, and pineapple alongside a croissant with strawberry jam on the side. Being very sleep=deprived, I made what I found to be the best discovery of the whole flight, that I could use my little plastic knife to sort of stuff the croissant full with the jam.

8:42 a.m., London time
We have arrived in London.
Life is beautiful.

My Life in the Air

2009-06-05T04:26:00.000-07:00

3:35 p.m., Lawrence time
Well, here I finally am, some odd-thousand feet in the air. This is the first of two flights today, the second of which will put me in at London's Heathrow airport.
Sitting here in my cozy window seat, I have but two choices: to look out the window at the land we're crossing far above, or to read Mrs. Dalloway, as I should.
I have spent some time already doing the first. As we took off, I watched the ground below and took in the greens, browns, and blues of the Midwestern landscape. There wer golden fields ripening for the harvest and sectioned off by uniform rows of arboreal greens. I could see highways criss-crossing, streams flowing, even a sandpit doing, well whatever they do. And then...nothing. We had crossed into, and then above, the clouds. Up here, it goes from resembling an arctic tundra to appearing as mere lonely ice flow, bleak either way.
With little to stare at and imagine from here, I have turned to Virginia Woolf and her Mrs. Dalloway. I am near the midpoint of the book, in a section where Woolf is focusing on the characters of Peter Walsh and Septimus Smith. I find it very easy to be drawn in to both of these characters, to see so much of myself in both, only to be taken aback when I discover something about either one that is antithetical to how I view myself. This has got me thinking on the nature of creating characters. Previously, in my own forays into fiction, I've created mostly facsimiles of people in my own life, trying to make them as close as possible to being the real thing. Any character I created that was entirely fictional ended up bland and one-dimensional. Now I'm curious about writing more introspective characters, taking a single attribute or aspect of myself and stretching it to an extreme until it becomes a whole person. For heroes, take my dreams and aspirations, and for the wretched, that which I despise most about myself.
Anyway, returning to Peter and Septimus. I feel very much in common with Peter's boyish nature, his fretting over Clarissa, his adventurous persona, and his utter romanticism. And when Woolf declares of Septimus that 'It has flowered; flowered from vanity, ambition, idealism, passion, loneliness, courage, laziness, the usual seeds, which all muddled up made him shy, and stammering, made him anxious to Improve himself, made him fall in love...' I cannot help but relate. But she also states that 'London has swallowed up millions of young men called Smith."
This got me thinking about names, specifically my own: Devin Arthur Lowell. It is a first and a last name combination assumedly never given before. It neither creates nor carries any expectations. It is unable to falter or disappoint. I have been granted freedom to create my own legacy, to leave something behind on this Earth that will not be confused for the work of anyone else. The only expectation made by my name is that of the middle, and it is a familial one. It only expects of me to behave much as my great-grandfather Arthur did, as much of the Lowell males do. It is an inherited trait, much as anything else about my family is.
There went Detroit. We're now starting to descentd into the Cleveland area. Coming down is always the hardest part. Taking off, I'm ok with, but landing is awful. I get excruciating ear pain and I can't really hear. I feel it already.

Puddle Jumping

2009-06-04T08:01:00.000-07:00

Today I spend my last few hours in the United States of America before myself and a gang of 20 some twentysomething Anglophiles invade the British Isles. Yes, today I will cross the Pond to a labyrinthine London, where streets often have a mind of their own; to the ancient fortress of York; to the poetic Lake District; and from there to Scotland, the stones of Edinburgh and Glasgow and the adventurous air of the Scottish Highlands.
I don't have much to say for this first post. After a disastrously awkward last night in Lawrence, I am near packed and ready to be taken by my personal taxi to Kansas City International, from which I will fly to Cleveland, and from Cleveland across the mighty Atlantic, only to land many cramped and uncomfortable hours later in London's Heathrow Airport. And then from there, it is on to our flat at No. 20 Bakers Row (hence the name of this blog). We will be in London for nigh on two weeks, and then our real travels begin.
The trip isn't all fun and games, however (although, it really is), as we do have to do some actual studying. I am currently engrossed in Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway, and after that I have to consume Jane Austen, Emily Bronte, Billy Shakespeare, Robert Burns, and many more, while also keeping abreast of my British history regarding art and architecture. A doable task, I'm certain.
In many ways, I am thrilled to be leaving for the UK, but in some, I am not. I made the decision to take this trip very hastily and without much forethought as to the cost and consequence. It was a very rough period of this year, when I would do nearly anything to escape the vibe of this town, my past, present, and future here. So then, I thought bouncing off to England for the summer would be a great idea. Now, I'm not so certain. After certain shakeups, I am just beginning new friendships and to rekindle lost ones. It is very difficult and somewhat heartbreaking to leave now, at this very moment. I know it would be too much for me to ask that the status quo remain the same until my return, but it is something that I hope for. For I will return even wiser, more traveled, and more confident that I can't ever be brought down.
The next post for this will hopefully come upon our settling in at the Bakers Row flat. I hope you all look forward to hearing about the flight and my flights of fancy attempting to keep myself entertained.