Connie's Adventures in London-Town

Of Mice and Men...

2009-03-30T14:43:00.006+01:00

Actually, the men bit of the title is a little misleading. We're 40 girls. Come on. If I were to be more accurate, I'd say, "Of mice and menstruation." The mice bit, however, is all too spot on. In our lovely (and messy) (and cramped) bedroom on the fourth floor, we have recently acquired a 12th roommate, a little harrier than the rest of us and a little more petite. It's caused quite the raucous here, and I seem to be the only one concerned with the fact that roommate X does not yet have a name. How sad.

Honestly, that's perhaps the most exciting thing that's happened all week. For the most part, I've been lying on my back in bed, sick, and trying to breathe through a solid wall of, well, congestion, in my nose and a swollen and throbbing throat. No, I make it sound more miserable than it was. Wait. Yes, it was that miserable. The sickness started with a few girls in York, and with 40 of us on a bus all day for 5 days straight, the germs were bound to spread. Sadly, Elizabeth and I both missed out on the Wednesday trip to Brighton because we were at our very worst that day. We did, however, have a good time sleeping and watching movies -- About a Boy and House Bunny. Quality stuff.

Oh wait, actually, I have done cool stuff. Last Monday, I made it to not one, not two, but three museums. First I hit up the Natural History Museum, which was really large and sort of hard to navigate, especially since apparently every school in the UK had decided to take a field trip there that day. I enjoyed it but was sad the one room I really wanted to see had just been closed -- "The Earth today and tomorrow." Next I went through a small portion of the Victoria and Albert museum, which is a lot like the Louvre in that it's pretty much impossible to see even a fraction of it. Finally, I went with Elizabeth to the Imperial War Museum. I wasn't expecting what we saw there. By the time we'd gone through the Children's War Exhibit, which examined the Battle of Britain from the children's view, and seen the 30-minute documentary on genocide and crimes against humanity, I could only make it through about 10 minutes of the Holocaust exhibit before I was too distraught to go through the rest. That was a seriously emotionally taxing museum, but it was incredible.

I also hit up the British Library last week, something I've been looking forward to for the last year or so. It is actually really modern -- the building is only from the late 90s, as in 1990s. They had on display the original writings of authors like the Bronte sisters, William Shakespeare, Sylvia Plath, and, my very favorite, Virginia Woolf. They had part of Virginia Woolf's diary on display from when she was brainstorming about writing Mrs. Dalloway, one of my favorite books. Seriously, a really cool thing to see. They also had the works of Handel, Beethoven, and the Beatles, and also the journal of Leonardo Da Vinci. So many cool things there.

We also saw Swan Lake, one of the two rivaling productions here in London. The other production, the one we didn't see, is the homosexual interpretation of it. Well, I don't know how good that one is as I haven't seen it, but the one we saw was, in a word (or two), INDESCRIBABLY AMAZING. I was enthralled the entire time, and by the time the last curtain fell, I was still ready to watch them for another three hours. Ballet -- well, ballet that is well done -- is one of the most beautiful celebrations of the human body. I was awe-struck. It might even top Les Mis as my favorite production I've seen in London. Sorry, Mom.

Also, this week there will be a G20 summit conference here in London, so leaders from all over the world are arriving (including Obama, woot!). Security is pretty crazy everywhere, so the professors are glad we're going to be in Paris most of the week. There are several huge protests being planned for this week, many of them right down the street. There have also been a lot more bombing threats. It's an interesting experience to be here while such a huge world event is taking place in our backyard.

Today is the day I whip out all my groovy moves and write two essays, read a novel, and prepare an oral presentation before class tomorrow morning. After class, we have a meeting about Paris, and I'm going to go through Kensington Palace, finally! I mean, it's right across the street... then Wednesday-Saturday is in good ol' Paris!

Sorry there are no pictures. I didn't exactly feel inclined to photograph myself congested and pale and disgusting-looking. You do understand.

Travel much? Just a bit

2009-03-22T19:03:00.006Z

Well, I'm finally back from my marathon traveling, and I'm exhausted, sick, and rather pleased. Instead of detailing all of my adventures from the past week and a half, I will hit the highlights of my two major trips -- to Nice, France, and the North of England.

Nice -- Nice was nice (bahaha). It was a relaxing paradise, to say the least, and as such, it would betray the essence of the vacation to give a daily account of our doings. So here are a select few of the highlights:

1. Roller-blading down the Promenade d'Anglais
2. Laying out on the beach in that wonderful Nice sun(except I will never let Elizabeth talk me out of buying sunscreen again)
3. Fresh pastries yummm
4. Hiking to the chateau colline
5. Walking out to the lighthouse
6. Staying in a hotel that looked more like a Mexican prison
7. Speaking FRENCH to the FRENCH
8. Walking the entire length of the Baie des Anges
9. Getting all wet in the Mediterranean Sea
10. Elbowing French freeloaders out of the way to get a really ugly free hat to wear while waiting to see the end of the Paris-Nice bike race.
11. Making it onto the Nice news two days in a row
12. Getting kissed at by French boys, calling me their cherie, only to see them hitting on someone else 2 minutes later. Heartbreak.
13. Sitting on the Palais de Justice eating GELATTO!!!! The most delicious gelatto I've ever had in my LIFE.
14. The markets in Old Nice, specifically the marche des fleurs (flower market)
15. Elizabeth's Richter Scale-worthy snoring

The Bay of Angels

My scent! In the country from where it comes.

Our really nice 2-star hotel

The freeloader hats... trust me, we looked the best in them out of anyone on the promenade

Skating down the promenade

The Marche des Fleurs

York & the North Country 6 hours after I returned from Nice, the entire group of us headed out in the coach for a 5-day tour through the North Country, going through Leeds, York, Preston, and, my favorite, the Lake District. Sadly, I lost my cellie phone in Leeds, which is inconvenient but not the end of my life, so I'm not stressing. Other than that, here were some of my favorite moments:

1. The Bronte Parsonage -- seeing where the amazingly talented and ambitious Bronte family grew up was a huge reminder for me of everything I should be doing, and how much harder I should be working towards my own goals. It may sound weird, but this particular stop was a rather spiritual experience for me.
2. Preston Temple and the church history tour -- Our final day of the trip was spent in Preston, where the first LDS missionaries in Britain were sent, and President Hinckley also served his mission here. We had a 2-hour walking tour of the major sites, finishing it at the Preston Temple. Also, we had amazing fresh doughnuts from a stand there.
3. Durham Cathedral -- the cathedral where the very first pointed arch was made and where flying buttresses were invented. Plus, a scene from Harry Potter was filmed there. Pretty tight.
4. York -- talk about amazing shopping. I bought stuff. Even though I shouldn't have.
5. The Lake District -- just driving through the countryside was so much fun. It was like no other part of England -- it was mountainous, with lots of trees, and browns and greens and lots and lots of lakes. We really wanted to go skinny-dipping, but it was freezing at night, and as it was, a third of the girls were sick, and the other two thirds were starting to get sick as well.
6. The ruins of Fountain's Head abbey -- If I lived in this area of the country, I feel very certain I would walk these ruins every day I possibly could, just walk, and sit, and write. That place has a spirit. I don't know how a location can be moody, but it certainly is -- I suppose the heavy mist might have added to that as well.
7. Hadrian's wall -- this pretty cool-looking wall marks the Northern extent of the Roman Empire.

The ruins of Fountain's Head Abbey -- I put a lot of pictures up of this because I loved it so much.

Bolton Castle, where Mary Queen of Scots was held captive. Elizabeth thinks she's so clever.

The alluring and mystical Bronte parsonage

The dock at the lake in the front yard of our hostel in the Lake District

Well, at dinner one night we were all deciding for each other what animal we look like, and there was a general consensus that I was a fox for whatever reason. The next day we were in Keswick and went to this tiny museum famous for its randomness, and guess what was there. A fox. Do you see the resemblance?

Dove Cottage - the home of William and Dorothy Wordsworth

Sitting on Hadrian's Wall

Durham Cathedral
Me and Patrice in front of the Preston Temple
In Preston at the river where the first baptisms in Britain took place

I know this is not my usual format, but there's so much I could tell, and honestly I don't have the time or the motivation to do a normal entry. Peace out, babies. Oh, and Paris next week. I've got one week in London, one week in Paris, another week in London, and then finals and I head back to the States. Weird.

Just me and Mr. Tumnus

2009-03-12T14:36:00.004Z

I figured I'd better throw in one more update before I take off, because odds are I won't be able to blog for another week and a half, and I've had a pretty exciting week this week.

Monday, as a group we visited the Cabinet War Rooms/Churchill Museum, which was surprisingly very interesting. I had always vaguely admired Churchill as a great politician and a strong leader, but now, I have to say, I am quite a fan. He was incredibly intelligent, very talented -- he was not only a skilled politician but a painter and a writer, and he had a personality to boot! I loved reading some of the things he's said -- what a wit! Here are just a couple of my favorites:

" A lie gets halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to get its pants on."
" He has all of the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire."
" We are all worms. But I believe that I am a glow-worm."
" Those who can win a war well can rarely make a good peace and those who could make a good peace would never have won the war."

I also saw two plays this week -- Agatha Christie's The Mousetrap on Tuesday, during which I got scolded by an old British lady, and 3 Days of Rain, which is the one I REALLY want to brag -- I mean talk about.

I suppose first I should mention that yesterday our day trip was to Hampton Court Palace, where Henry VIII lived, and then Wimbledon, where we got a really cool tour, but honestly I don't have anything particularly interesting to say about either of them. As soon as we got home, Ana and I went straight to the tube to get tickets for 3 Days of Rain, starring James McAvoy (Narnia, Atonement, Penelope, Becoming Jane, etc). We happened to be able to get really great seats, and the night just went up from there.

Having arrived there early and secured tickets, we ventured out to make sure we knew exactly where the stage door was. We found it, and hovered in what we liked to pretend was a casual manner -- who knows, maybe James was going to come out for a smoke or something. Well, he didn't, so we settled for finding our seats and waiting to see him materialize in front of our faces on the stage. He did. And it was magnificent. The play itself, even if it didn't have James, was incredible! Probably my favorite I've seen here after Les Mis. Ana had told me going in to the play she'd read it was a one-act play without intermission, so as soon as the lights went black, we threw on our coats and ran out of the theatre to the stage door. We waited, and strange things happened.

"Ana, they didn't come out for bows. That's weird, I've never seen a play where they didn't come out for bows."
"Yeah, maybe it's just that kind of play."
"Hmm.. yeah and it was only an hour long. That's pretty short."
"Yeah, but it's over."
"Are you sure? We are the only ones out here..."

Somehow we managed to dismiss all of those concerns and stand there, jittery and nervous, planning how we could casually ask James out to dessert with us and make him fall in love. After about 15 minutes of waiting, the door opened. And out he came... The fat security guard. Out for a smoke. After several awkward minutes of dodging eye contact, I finally asked him,

"Is this where the actors come out?"
(weird look)"Yeah... but not for another hour."
"What?"
"Yeah but not for another hour."
(confused pause)"Wait there's not another act, is there?"
(even weirder look) "Yeah."
"What?"
(you're a real idiot look) "Yeah."
(the realization)"Oh."

Turn. And walk. Just turn and walk. We made it back to our seats just in time for the second act to begin, giggling uncontrollably at our own silliness. Okay, now fast forward to the REAL end of the play, repeat what happened in the fake ending, the running, the stage door, but this time add a bunch of people waiting there with us, more security, and then James McAvoy. He was less than an arm's length distance away, he looked at us, talked to us, signed our tickets, shook our hands. He was very nice, but as luck would have it, he has a wife. Shucks. He really gave a brilliant performance in the play, and honestly meeting him was very much -- no, exactly like -- meeting anybody else. Except that when you tell people you've met James McAvoy it makes them jealous.

All right, I'm off to Nice until Monday night, then Tuesday morning I head off for York until Saturday night. By the way, I added a few pictures to my Scotland update.

Hampton Court:

Elizabeth gets a kick out of making me do impromptu photo shoots at various locations. So this is one picture in a series of about 20 taken right here. Oh boy haha.

Wimbledon:
Sitting in the members seats at court 1
Below: sitting in the chairs where players give their press conferences
3 Days of Rain:

Just realize this picture was not taken with any sort of zoom. That's James.

Now entering the most beautiful city in the world

2009-03-10T12:29:00.005Z

It's about time for a Scotland update. Oh boy. Where to begin? How about the beginning.

Day #1 (Thursday): Erin, Sarah, Abby, and I booked it to King's Cross station in London to catch our train to Edinburgh, Scotland. We luckily ended up with four seats around a table, and spent most the 4 1/2 hour ride talking, pretending to do homework, staring out the window, and sleeping. About a half hour into the journey, the four of us were deep in what I'm sure was a meaningful conversation when the train went through a tunnel, and all at once all four of us dropped our jaws, grabbed our ears, and grimaced. Who knew a pressure change could make your ears pop that bad? It hurt, but we were thoroughly entertained as it happened regularly throughout the journey and we got to enjoy each other's facial expressions. You'll also be happy to know that we were the only ones on the train who seemed to be affected by it. No, I take that back -- an old Scottish lady sitting across the aisle once touched her ear. So there.

We arrived in Edinburgh after nightfall, and as we walked up the ramp out of the train station, the overwhelming beauty of the city very literally stole the breath from my lungs. The gothic magnitude of the city was enchanting, and I fell very much in love. It only took one second of looking around me to know this was the most beautiful city I'd ever seen in my life. Unfortunately, we didn't have much time to stand and gawk, because we had only a few minutes to find the bus station to catch our bus to Dundee, where we would be staying for the night. After a bit of an ordeal and a rather lengthy hike through the city looking like geeks with our international study backpacks bulging and swung over our backs, we arrived, got on the 2-hour bus ride, and arrived in Dundee, where we were picked up by Victoria, the daughter of one of Erin's friends. That night, she was so hospitable and kind -- she drove us around Dundee, waited while we ran to say hello to one of Erin's friends, and drove us on top of a volcano to get a nighttime view of the city and the coast. We were pretty exhausted from traveling at that point and went to sleep.

Day #2 (Friday): Before going to bed on Thursday, we decided on leaving the next morning by 8:30 at the latest, so we were rather impressed with our own punctuality when we made it out of the house the next day by 9:15. We caught a bus to the centre of Dundee, and, admittedly, there wasn't much to see. We went out to the harbor and say the RRS Discovery ship, which was closed for a wedding. We took some cool pictures on the coast, stared at a bagpiper for a while, and found a cafe where we could get some fish and chips. Of course, the restaurant took longer than we were expecting, and we sprinted through Dundee, backpacks bouncing all over the place, to catch our noon bus back into Edinburgh. As Erin aptly stated, "Hey, now we can say we've gone running in Dundee."

Once we reached Edinburgh, we had a lot to do before meeting up with my friend Shona at 5:30. First we climbed the Gothic spire in the middle of the city. It was dedicated to Sir Walter Scott -- see, writers can make a difference! -- and afforded great views of the city as well as winding staircases cramped enough for a good bout of claustrophobia. After, we made our way to the Elephant House, a cafe that has DELICIOUS hot chocolate, a charming atmosphere, and an appealing history -- this is the famous cafe where JK Rowling wrote much of Harry Potter, starting out with scribbles on napkins. We also made a trek to see the Grey Friar's Bobby, which we had heard was the most photographed monument in all of the UK, so naturally we had to join in the ranks of pilgrims. Maybe this will give you an idea of what it looked like -- we almost walked past it. It was very literally a tiny statue of a tiny dog. Whaaat.

Next on the list was hiking Arthur's Seat, an extinct volcano at one end of the Royal Mile that overlooks the entire city of Edinburgh. We were told it would be more of a 20-minute nature walk. Nope -- took us about an hour to reach the summit, and I suppose it didn't help that we accidentally at first climbed the mountain next to it. But honestly, this was my favorite part of the trip. I love hiking, it was beautiful, the view was stunning, and the power of the wind at the top was... well, powerful. This extra long hike, though, made us very late to meet up with Shona, who was so sweet to hang around the train station waiting for us. We headed up to Stirling, Scotland with her, went to dinner, met her Irish boyfriend, watched The Devil Wears Prada in her flat, laughed when her flatmate came home a little drunk and spent the night at the toilet, and had a pretty early night.

Day #3 (Saturday.. this is the last one, I swear): After spending the morning in Stirling, heading up to Stirling Castle, getting a nice view of the city and the William Wallace monument (yes, Mel Gibson is a living part of Scottish history), doing a bit of shopping, and meeting back up with Shona for tea and muffins, we headed back once more to the city that had already become one with my heart -- Edinburgh. We spent the majority of the rest of our time at Edinburgh Castle, then souvenir shopping down the Royal Mile, finding dinner, wandering the city, and getting on the 5:30 train back to London. This train ride could not have been more different from the first. Somehow, *luckily* we ended up in the FUN compartment brim full of drunken men of all ages on their ways home from various football games. They had begun drinking at 9 am, had each had about 9-10 pints each already, and were still going. Now, these were real men. They were drinking, betting, shouting, brawling, poker-playing, spitting, and, yes, singing. Talk about a 5-hour headache. One of their friends passed out drunk in his seat, and they convinced me to sit right next to him and pose for a picture. They began to take a general interest in us and believed that not being able to stand up straight or look us straight in the eye was very appealing to us. We had a long, entertaining conversation, and were not sorry to see them get off the stop before us. It was a late night, and I didn't get much of anything done due to the amount of noise on that train ride home -- well, it was more of a night at a pub than a night on a train. Ah, well, it's those unexpected bits of life that keep us on our toes, isn't it?

So that was my day-by-day Scotland adventure. I wish that pictures and words could do the city and its feel justice. Edinburgh is a dynamic city of tall, gothic structures, narrow, winding streets, and plenty of hills and stairs and gardens. And as if to make sure you never forgot where you were at any time, there was always at least one kilted bagpiper playing away, letting the traditional Scottish songs float their way through the city. I will be a very sad woman indeed if I never get a chance to revisit Edinburgh.

By the way, we have literally hundreds of pictures from this trip, so I'm just going to pick a few to show. These aren't even necessarily the best ones. Just a handful of them.

Beanies we found in Scotland -- should have bought them
The birthplace of Harry Potter -- excellent hot chocolate!

Me and Erin walking up the wider part of the stairs climbing the gothic spire

A view of Edinburgh from the Spire -- that mountain in the back is Arthur's Seat, which we climbed
Walking up the Royal Mile to hike Arthur's Seat, we ran into another group of girls from the centre. Weird! This happened about 4-5 times throughout the trip, by the way.
On top of Arthur's Seat

Blast it, I have so many more, but they're not uploading. I give up. This is all I'm posting.

At the Centre of Everything

2009-03-09T17:35:00.006Z

I am ridiculously behind on my blogging, and it's a shame, considering the amount of events about which I should be writing. Let's start with last Tuesday and Carmen at Royal Albert Hall. Allow me to describe the context of seeing this production. It was raining quite liberally while we walked across Hyde Park to the show, so Elizabeth and I had a good time clinging to each other under the (partial) protection of her pink scarf, trying to shield our faces and hair from the damaging effects of the wind and rain. Our seats were third row from the very top, and our noses were definitely bleeding. Also, earlier that day, I had foolishly indulged in an entire bag of dried apricots. So, assuming you can draw your own conclusions from the above information, I will leave it that I was rather uncomfortable during the production. Aside from the discomfort and the unfortunate decision to perform the opera in English, it was a very enjoyable night! We topped it off with a viewing party of the season finale of The Bachelor, and I am not going to say anything of my feelings on that.

Wednesday morning we made our way down to Westminster station right next to the London Eye and caught a boat down the Thames to Greenwich, the center of time not to mention the world. As usual, Elizabeth and I broke off and wandered through Greenwich park, soaking up the views and flowers and straight up greenness. If I said we didn't do (and record) the macarena there, I'd be lying. It was Elizabeth's idea. Then, we met up with the whole group at the observatory for a planetarium show, which made me long to see the stars. They're not exactly visible in London. We spent a bit more time in Greenwich, straddled the Prime Meridian, went through the National Maritime Museum, you know, the usual, then caught a ride back to London. The evening was exhilarating -- packing for Scotland and sleeping.

Thursday as soon as class ended, Erin, Abby, Sarah and I headed off to King's Cross station to catch our train ride to Edinburgh, Scotland. Look forward to an update on that soon! I've got a couple more trips coming up -- I leave at like 4 am Friday morning to go to Nice, France with Elizabeth and Mary, get back Monday evening, and the whole group of us leave Tuesday morning for York until that Saturday. Oh, boy.

On the boat on the Thames going to Greenwich

Me and Elizabeth hanging in Greenwich Park

A foot in each hemisphere

Check your watches, ladies and gents. This is Greenwich time we're talking about.

This is a picture I took of Greenwich. Either I'm an amazing photographer or it's a beautiful city. Okay, it's a beautiful city.
This is skipping ahead a bit, but this was in Mitcham yesterday down the street from where we have church. By some miracle we actually got to church half an hour early before the building was even open, so we wandered around the town and took some dorky self-timer pics. What's especially funny about this is you see I'm wearing sunglasses, none of us are wearing scarves -- it was sunny. By the time we got back from church, it was pouring rain. Talk about temperamental weather.

Return to Camden Town

2009-03-02T09:01:00.004Z

This morning, for your pleasure, I shall present, in the most pleasing way possible, a selection of amusing anecdotes I either have forgotten to share or have simply neglected to do so.

Monday. Yes, LAST Monday. Elizabeth and I headed out for our morning jog, and I recommended, "Let's take it easy today." Ha! We ran this time not simply round and about Hyde Park, but all the way down to Buckingham Palace. As we got closer to the palace, we noticed the line of guard on horseback coming down the same street as us, so we exchanged one of those meaningful looks you read about in books and promptly took off to race the guard down the street to the palace (and win) just before the Changing of the Guard. However, I'd be lying if I said we stuck around to see it. We did try -- we added our sweaty running bodies to the pressing mass of international observers, waited around, got pushed around, did a bit of pushing ourselves, and ultimately decided we'd been waiting and pushing for too long, and we ran back. Let me tell you, a week later, my calves are still burning.

Friday was an interesting night, beginning with a discount viewing of Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew. I will not say anything more on that topic other than starting from the opening bar scene featuring a sex doll and a pole dance stripper, the entire spectacle was disgusting, distasteful, and offensive. The night improved from there, though, starting with the fall of the curtain. As we walked back through Covent Gardens, we stumbled across an impromptu concert by a rather talented solo performer. You know, the "just me and my guitar and my music (and a decent sound system)" kind of thing. The crowd made a large, tight circle around him and sang along to all our favorite songs -- "Can't take my eyes off you," "Hallelujah," etc. etc. Every couple of songs, he'd switch to Italian, and the huge group of Italian boys across the circle from us would suddenly burst into a very loud version of it along with him. It was all in all a very cool unique experience. There was dancing, hugging, picture-taking, the works. After staying at the concert for more than an hour, we all packed up and went home, during the process of which Erin and I got separated from the group in a bit of elevator confusion and met with a lot of creepers as we sprinted down the stairs only to miss the tube and ignore a guy who came over to talk to us who wouldn't stop touching us and spoke to us in about 5 different languages, and somehow I understood everything he said to me, and told him to pretty much buzz off. PHEW. It was a long night.

Saturday was the return to Camden Town. Jenessa agreed to come along with me on another one of my very necessary, slightly nerdy literary pilgrimages. We headed up to Camden again, not to see the dog collars and punk life this time, but to visit the homes where Sylvia Plath lived, including the one in which she committed suicide. It was interesting that at the house where she committed suicide, the blue plaque on the house only mentioned that it was the home of WB Yeats with no mention of Plath. We were not able to enter the houses, as they are now private residences, but we certainly loitered outside, took pictures, and at the second house, read aloud Anne Sexton's verse tribute to Sylvia Plath she delivered at her funeral.

We spent the rest of the day wandering Primrose Hill in Camden, which is honestly the most charming place I've ever been in my life, and I'm dying to live there now. I might have even looked up the cost of renting an apartment there... We also found out before we left that Primrose Hill happens to be where Ewan McGreggor and Jude Law live, so we wandered up and down many a street, hoping to casually bump into them, strike up a captivatingly intelligent and witty conversation, and begin a lovely (and convenient) and lifelong friendship. Alas, it didn't happen -- a goal to pursue another day.

Anecdote instant terminated. I shall perhaps add pictures of the Sylvia Plath houses later.

I do desire we may be better strangers

2009-02-27T09:30:00.009Z

First of all, I really am never coming back -- my flight home in April was canceled! So good luck living without me. (Okay, don't freak out, I'm still going to come back. I don't think I could live in this sorority house for any longer than 4 months.)

Monday night marked a changed determination for me: I need to spend more time out on the town at night again. So often we are exhausted by the time dinner creeps up that we spend the night inside the centre, missing out on all the London glory right outside the window. So Monday night Elizabeth and I headed out. We didn't know where we were going to go or how long we were going to stay there, but the important thing is we left. We ended up getting out at Big Ben, walking across the Thames to the Eye, popping in to a little arcade there, then wandering to Trafalgar Square, Picadilly Circus, and Regent Street. Central London at night is refreshing. People on the streets are sparse and courteous, the air is cool and fresh in the lungs, and all those iconic structures of the city are literally glowing. I think the fact that they're lit up helps.

Tuesday evening, we went to the Barbican Concert Hall and saw the Minnesota (I think) Philharmonic Orchestra, featuring that oh-so-eligible bachelor violinist Joshua Bell. He played with incredible passion, whipping his head this way and that, and his hair was just shiny enough to make it a Pantene commercial-worthy flip. The crowd (particularly the young female part) ate him up, and he knew it. Oh boy did he know it. After his violin concerto, he worked the audience, returning to the stage to bow four times before he enchanted us all with his encore. He charmingly introduced the piece he would be playing as an American folk song from the war -- "The Revolutionary war...sorry about that." Well, he was playing to a room of mostly Brits. And what was this delightful folk song? Yankee Doodle. Yes, he got away with playing Yankee Doodle as his encore. Like I said, he worked it.

Our Wednesday-Thursday trip this week, from which I just returned last night, was a pilgrimage to the Shakespeare Properties in Stratford-upon-Avon. For those who don't know, this town is so named because it lies along the Avon river... Stratford...upon Avon. And now for an entertaining anecdote: Elizabeth's great-grandmother is named Avon because she was conceived in S-upon-A and her parents didn't think Stratford a suitable name for a female child.

For me, this was one of the most exciting trips we've been on yet. One by one, we ventured to each of the 5 Shakespeare properties -- Mary Arden's house (Shakespeare's mother), Anne Hathaway's cottage (Shakespeare's wife), Shakespeare's birthplace, Hall's Croft (where Shakespeare's daughter lived), and New Place/Nash's House (where Shakespeare lived until his death). At Mary Arden's house we watched a falconrie show. Did it involve falcons? No, but it did involve an owl named Angus... several of us got to help feed him, which involved wearing a large glove, holding a piece of a dead chick (that was the part I struggled with... ignoring the small tuft of feathers in my hand), and holding your arm out so Angus can fly directly at you and perch on your arm to swallow the yellow tuft whole. At Anne Hathaway's, I stood in the parlor where the 18-year-old Shakespeare wooed his 26-year-old wife-to-be, Anne. It was a small, tudor-style cottage featuring sinking ceilings, very short doors, and a beautiful garden.

I also took a gander over to Holy Trinity Church, a charmingly quaint church yards from the river Avon. It was here that Shakespeare was baptised, and now where he and his wife are buried. In one day, I felt as though I had come full circle -- I started with Shakespeare's humble heritage on his mother's small farm, traveled with her to Avon in the home John Shakespeare built her and in which the poet was born and raised, journeyed with William to Anne's cottage to win her heart, stopped in at the house where Anne raised their children while Shakespeare made a name for himself in London, and solemnly ended my journey at the church that commemorates not only Shakespeare's birth and death, but his flawed humanity and undeniable immortality. It was, in effect, a remarkable day, capped off by a performance in the evening of The Tempest by the Royal Shakespeare Company. I don't know how many of the girls understood the play, but they certainly did understand the actors' abs. The debate after the play was not so much a discussion of the actors' and director's interpretation of Shakespeare's last real play, but rather a heated debate over whether Ariel or Ferdinand had the better body. Welcome to my estrogen-filled world.

After staying overnight in a hostel in Stratford, we headed out to Blenheim Palace, the current home of a duke, which is a descendent of Winston Churchill's family. We had a very interesting tour through this remarkable palace to start out with. It was stunning, and I would even venture to call it more beautiful than Windsor Castle, though several things about it did confuse me. For instance, we were asked to please keep off the gravel. Not the grass. The gravel. After the tour, we entertained ourselves with the butterfly house, stocked with all sorts of exotic butterflies, and a hedge maze, which was a tad suffocating but certainly exciting. We made two more stops before returning to our London home, at small towns in the Cotswolds, which are known for their unique brickwork buildings and dry masonry fences.

I am overwhelmed with the depth of history and importance I find myself in the middle of. Yes, London shopping is delightful and cafes are delicious, but the times I feel most amazed are walking through the halls in which history is made, books are crafted, memories engrained. It's those beautiful moments of being when I realize how blessed, and rather small, I am.

Inside Mary Arden's house

Anne Hathaway's cottage

Shakespeare's birthplace

Holy Trinity Church

The font in which Shakespeare was baptised

Shakespeare's tomb at the High Altar in Holy Trinity Church

Me and Elizabeth outside the church

At Blenheim Palace... very confusing

Inside the maze
Blenheim Palace

Sunshine in the Park

2009-02-21T18:41:00.006Z

Today was the most beautiful weather we've had yet here in London. After our morning jog and preparing my lesson for church tomorrow, Elizabeth, Mary and I spent the day in Hyde Park, soaking up the sunshine. Please notice the lack of coat. It's glorious.

The park was PACKED

Me and Mary in front of Kensington Palace and the Queen Victoria memorial, sculpted by her daughter

The gates of Kensington Palace... this is part of our usual morning run

I made the dreadful mistake of sitting on that ledge right there. It was wet. And so was my bum, as Elizabeth is deftly pointing out

I only bite the people I trust. Doesn't make sense. But it's true.

The Peter Pan statue... again, this is all part of our morning run

Royal Albert Hall -- it's just across the street from Hyde Park... what you can't see here is the couple MAKING out hard-core just to the right of this picture. And they say Brits withhold affection.

This is getting harder

2009-02-19T22:26:00.003Z

Hello all. So I'm starting to realize the more London feels normal and like home, the harder it becomes to blog. I mean, how often do you have the desire to delineate all of the activities you do in Provo, or Boston, or wherever you might be? So this will get harder and harder to blog, I fear, from here on out.

Here's my big news: I have booked two weekend trips with some friends next month. The first weekend in March, I'm going to Edinburgh, Scotland with 3 other girls. We're going to meet up with my friend, Shona, who lives just outside of Edinburgh, so I'm really excited to see her again. The following weekend, Elizabeth, Mary and I are heading off to Nice, France! It's right on the Southern coast, literally meters from the beach. This will be a longer trip -- we'll leave early early early Friday morning and be there until Monday night. I am really really really excited for this trip! It's definitely made me have to take another look at my budget while I'm here and make cut-backs in other spending areas. Yes, ladies and gents, this is where self-control comes into play.

So, on to the past week. Monday, as you know, was Presidents' Day. Yes, Americans still celebrate Presidents' Day in Britain, which basically just means -- no school! Elizabeth and I spent most of the day together, starting out with a glorious run through the park and a much-needed haircut for me. I seriously considered chopping it down to a pixie again, but decided against it. Don't be too disappointed. Then we spent the rest of the day wandering around Harrods doing things any males reading this wouldn't understand. Elizabeth may or may not have found her dream engagement ring :)

Tuesday I had my first mid-term, for British Mysteries, after which all of us made a trip to the replica of the Globe Theatre here in London. It was a neat experience, mainly because our tour guide was an actor/director and had the dry, funny personality to accompany it. He was astonishingly knowledgeable in Shakespeare and Elizabethan theatre, so we all gained a lot of insights into a great playwright's work. The Globe itself was not exactly awe-inspiring for me, simply because I've been to the Globe in Cedar City so many times, and I've even had the opportunity of performing on it twice.

Wednesday was our closest and shortest day trip yet, though I really enjoyed it. First, we went to Runnymede. Basically, we hiked up a really muddy hill to see a circular monument where the Magna Carta was signed... yeah, I'm not sure what to say about that. We snapped a couple of photos, headed back down the hill, Elizabeth slipped and almost fell, caught her balance, then my feet slipped completely out from underneath of me, and I ended up accidently grabbing Elizabeth to keep myself from sliding down the hill on my derriere. She says it was just an excuse for a boob grab.

We spent most of the day at Windsor Castle, which was incredible! For those who don't know, this is the summer residence of the Queen, her husband, and her children. One of the coolest things to see was the Queen's doll house, in which everything is perfectly to scale 12:1. Seriously, it was the most elaborate thing I've ever seen -- it even had fully functioning electricity and plumbing... not sure why, though. Maybe for those unfortunate children in Hunny I shrunk the kids. We also got to tour through the state rooms and semi-state rooms where the Queen entertains all sorts of guests, from politicians to celebrities. I wish we could have taken pictures, but I don't know that pictures would even begin to do those rooms justice. The ceilings alone were like giant, gold-trimmed, pop art doilies. Once again, I'm not sure why.. unless they roll out some purple and red sleeping bags and host sleepovers there, those ceilings are not going to get much attention. The rest of the time was spent in the town of Windsor, time during which there's not much to note except that I got yelled at by two different people for trying a hat on. Snobs.

Finally, we stopped at Stoke Poge, which I really enjoyed. This is the church and churchyard in and about which Thomas Gray wrote "Elegy written in a country churchyard," a poem which I studied and even wrote a paper on last semester. Thomas Gray was also buried there. The small community church was ancient and falling apart, as were the gravestones surrounding it, and it could not have been more beautiful. No wonder it inspired such an interesting poem.

Duh---duh duh duh Dat's all, folks.

Me in Windsor Castle

That's me and Elizabeth on the bench... we're so in love. This is by the famous golf course in Stoke Poge's... several movies filmed on this golf course. I can't remember all of them but one of them was Goldfinger

The tree Thomas Gray talks about in his poem written in Stoke Poge's. Oh, and James Bond did some filming here, too, when he goes to visit a gravestone.

In Stoke Poge's... I know, these pictures are so wanna-be artsy it's disgusting. But guess how much I care.

Snails n Wales

2009-02-15T23:07:00.003Z

Update part two, what what! Wednesday through Friday of this week was spent in Wales, and honestly, there's not that much to report. We spent most of each day on the bus, watching Wales, which looked remarkably like a lot of sheep on a lot of hills, pass outside the window. We stopped at a couple of castles, one of which was relatively modern and fully decorated and inhabitable. We stopped at a couple of abbeys and cathedrals and had one especially boring tour by a short man sporting a comb-over.

The first night we stayed at a hostel in a town I can't remember the name of, but it was pretty sick. Kate had a nice surprise on her pillow -- dried blood. Welcome home! Haha it was a neat experience, though, and I was one of the few girls who still slept like a rock. After we settled into the hostel as much as possible, we wanted to go out on the town, as we were just outside Cardiff. We asked the hostel owner where to go, he gave a few recommendations that sounded fun, and then he mentioned someone had been killed in those precise locations just last week. So we decided to see a movie. But how neat is this -- I can tell people I saw He's Just Not that Into You in Wales? The unfortunate incident of the evening was Kate losing her iPod there, and, as we have recently discovered, her oyster card for the tube.

The next night was infinitely cooler. We drove out to Beaumaris, which is right on the coast of Wales and is actually an island, technically. First we stopped at Beaumaris castle, something not many of us were looking forward to with much excitement. After traveling so long on the bus, we were sort of ready to go directly to the hotel and take a nap. Had we done so, we would have missed out on one of the coolest experiences yet on the trip. It was one of those unplanned and unexpected incidents that completely change your attitude and your entire day. Somehow the entire group of us 40 girls ended up in the small chapel room of the castle, and we began singing -- hymns, primary songs, etc. It started as a small group, but as the songs carried across the vast castle grounds, gradually girls sought out the source. We joined together in that small room with the vaulted ceiling, all in a circle, holding hands, linking arms, embracing, and singing. For a bunch of girls who for the most part are not singers, we remarkably sounded like a chorus of angels, and the Spirit was a very strong presence. It was an incredible experience, and most of us had tears streaming down our faces. One English woman touring the castle had heard us singing and searched the castle until she found us. When she did, she sincerely expressed, "I have been searching for you. You have made this castle come alive. Thank you."

The hotel we stayed in on the island was about a block away from the castle, and it's a very historic building -- Queen Victoria stayed there once! It's all in its original condition for the most part, ghosts and all. It was so refreshing to sleep in a comfortable bed, and in a room with only one other girl! It was literally right on the shore, and the view from our window overlooked the ocean and the pier. The bathroom was amazing, as well! It was so refreshing to take a private shower (not a glass-doored shower across from the public bathroom mirrors like at the centre)! I took a nice long bubble bath and a hot shower. The shops in Beaumaris were adorable as well. In the morning, we had a full English breakfast before heading back.

We made our first stop at Chester, which is right on the England/Wales border. It was a pretty neat town, the highlight of which (besides the delicious gelatto) was the wishing steps -- legend has it that if you run up and down those steps twice without taking a breath,your wish will come true. Well, there were a lot of steps, haha. Also, we saw the tower from which King Charles I watched his armies in their final defeat against the troops of Oliver Cromwell. Our other two stops were an abbey with the comb-over tour and a modern-style cathedral in Coventry, and then home very late on Friday night!

So what did I do to celebrate Valentine's Day? I'm going to keep it secret. Just to tantalize you.

In the middle of Castle Coch

Le chateau de Beaumaris

Inside the lovely hostel

Outside the lovely hostel

What the Dickens?!

2009-02-14T12:47:00.005Z

Okay, so let's face it, I have a lot to catch up on. I had intended to blog about Monday and Tuesday before I left for Wales on Wednesday morning, but... I just didn't get around to it. So let's see if I can remember everything I've done with all those rich details and embellishments that keep all of you so fascinated and entertained.

Monday was rainy, very rainy. As you might recall, our trip to the Tower of London last Friday was canceled due to snow, but the only day we could reschedule was Monday. Needless to say, then, the pictures that resulted from a day in the rain are not the most flattering but certainly amusing. Kate, Sarah, Elizabeth and I stuck together like 3 pieces of gum and a shoe. I'm not sure who was the shoe. Definitely the highlight of the trip was seeing the Crown Jewels, upon which are the first and second largest cut diamonds in the world, of perfect clarity. Suddenly a 1-karat diamond doesn't seem so big :) JUST kidding.

Tuesday I finally went to the Charles Dickens museum. I have been trying to go for ages, but everyone kept postponing it -- so I finally said, "I'm going today, whoever wants to come can come, but even if it's only me, I am going!" As it turns out, I did have one companion -- the very sweet Janessa, who also takes interest in literary sites, so we shall probably visit many of them together in the future. 48 Doughty Street was, in a word, lit-acular. Wow I'm not as clever as I think I am. Anyway, it was pretty amazing to walk around inside the very house where dear Charlie finished The Pickwick Papers, plus wrote Oliver Twist and Nicholas Nickleby in their entirety. There was a ton of original furniture, so I got to sit at the desk where he penned his last words. They also had a drawing room roped off because it had a bunch of his original furniture, including his very famous armchair. He was known to always sit in it, and several drawings that are done of him are done of him sitting in that chair. I decided I needed a picture in the chair, not just of it. After filling Janessa in on my scheme, we hovered. The room eventually cleared out except for us, I handed Janessa my camera, and stepped quite stealthily over the rope. The second I put foot to very old carpet the alarm went off. I set off a freaking alarm. Hahaha needless to say we booked it out of there, and I did not get my picture. The whole experience was perhaps one of my favorite trips so far in London. Also, there was a French school group touring through, so I lingered a bit with them in rooms and listened to their tour of the place given in French, which was pretty cool. My comprehension is still pretty good! I also bought a copy of Oliver Twist. I mean, how many times do you have the opportunity to buy a copy of Oliver Twist in the very house where it was written?

I'm already tired of blogging. I'll write more later about my Wales trip that took up Wednesday - Friday. For now, Happy Valentine's Day, and Papino, happy birthday!!!

Me and Janessa in front of Charles Dickens' house, 48 Doughtry Street

The golden arm from A Tale of Two Cities, my favorite Dickens

At the desk where Dickens wrote his last words

The window from which Oliver Twist is pushed

Mrs. Dickens' engagement ring

Blast it, I have more pictures, but I can't upload them right now. Whatev.

Are...you...kidding me

2009-02-08T23:51:00.000Z

Today was possibly one of the longest trips of my life, and all I have to say is I am so grateful for a sense of humor. Of the three of us that go to my ward, I was the only one cracking up laughing about the situation I am about to relate.

The journey to and from church, on the rare occurrence that everything goes flawlessly, is long enough. It SHOULD work like this: at 8:20 we leave the house, walk to the station, take the circle tube line to Victoria station, where we take the 9:06 train to Mitcham junction, then a tram to Mitcham and walk the rest of the way to the chapel, ideally 10 minutes early for our 10:00 meeting. You may also recall that theoretically we should be paying 2 pounds each way on the tram, even though we only ride it one stop, and that we instead just hop on and hop off.

Here's how it went today. We left the house at 8:20 as planned. The circle line was closed, so we took an alternate route on the central line, then we changed for the victoria line. All in all, no big deal. Then we get to Victoria Station, and everything goes wrong. We buy our train ticket, and notice that we do not have our usual direct service to Mitcham junction, so we start asking around. 3 different people tell us 3 different ways of how we're supposed to get there, involving a myriad of different methods of transportation. We finally decide to listen to the guy in front of the computer, seeing as it seemed so official and technilogical and everything. He directed us to get on a train to East Croydon, where we could take the tram all the way to Mitcham. Thing is, he directed us to the wrong train. We got on the train going to West Croydon, (which was already leaving at 9:20, 15 minutes later than our usual train) where we got off, looked around for a minute, and decided we had no idea what to do. After consulting with an official there, he directed us to take another tram back to East Croydon, THEN get on the tram to Mitcham. Okay.

So, after waiting about 25 minutes in the freezing cold, we hop on the tram, figuring that since the official at the train station had told us to, our paying for the train that didn't take us where we needed to go sort of covered paying for the tram. By now it was already past 10:00 and we had a long way to go. So there we are, riding along, and we see them... the blue jackets with the funny machines... coming down the tram... asking to see tickets. Abby (by the way it's her birthday today) almost starts to cry. All our hearts are beating to the sound of the penalty fare -- "fifty pounds, fifty pounds, fifty pounds." They get to us. I try to act cute, ignorant, anything but panicky. Blue coat #1 looks at me, says "hello," shifts his machine, waits expectantly. I smile pleasantly, return a cheerful "hello" and look back at Abby and Steph as though I thought he was a friendly stranger, and not someone who was going to get us in big trouble in 1.2 seconds. Very luckily for us, however, the officials were actually very nice. They only made us get off the tram at the next stop, pay our way, and get back on. Halleluh.

At about 10:30, still on the tram and relieved to have averted that crisis, we stand up as we approach the Mitcham junction station, recognizing the name. The tram stops, we get off, the doors close, and it hits me -- we normally get off the train at Mitcham junction and get on the tram one more stop to Mitcham -- the tram that we had just exited and that was now rolling away. We hit the doors, the side of the tram as it left, all to no avail. Looking at the board, we saw the next tram would be coming in 17 minutes. 17 minutes. It was freezing cold. We were in skirts. And we'd just gotten off the tram a stop too early. This was the point I started laughing and couldn't stop. I very legitimately pissed off Abby and Steph, who were frustrated beyond words with our situation and didn't find it the least bit funny, but I much prefer laughing to sulking, and my laughter was nearly uncontrollable. I laughed away those bitterly cold 17 minutes, thinking about everything that had just happened in the last 2 1/2 hours, all to culminate in us being stupid enough to get off the tram too early and get stuck outside freezing.

17 minutes and 30 potentially amputatable toes later, we got back on the tram for that one beautiful stop to Mitcham, walked up the glorious hill and down the street to the chapel, 45 minutes late, and at last entered the doors as triumphantly and nobly as 3 girls can with chattering teeth, runny noses, and bright red cheeks. Happy birthday, Abby.

Also, as it turns out, there had been some miscommunication, and another girl had prepared the same lesson I had prepared to teach in young women's, so I stepped down and let her take it over. All in all, it was a weird Sunday. A long Sunday. But a good Sunday. I really think laughing at ourselves makes all the difference.

Here's a picture of us with the young women we teach (and 2 other teachers).

Steph's all the way on the left in black, Abby's in front of her in brown, and if you don't know which I am, what the bleep are you doing reading my blog?!

Unfortunately, I got the Mitcham throw-down memo too late.

The apparently sideways cake Adjoa made for Abby... so sweet
On the train there... the wrong train, that is

Let's play catch-up

2009-02-08T23:47:00.000Z

All righty then, I will now attempt the unlikely -- to catch you all up on the happenings of the last few exciting days of my exciting life. Okay, I am writing that and insulting myself in my head for my own lameness. Well, what of it. Proceed!

Friday morning, we were supposed to leave for the Tower of London by 8:20, meaning I had to get up by 7 if I actually wanted to shower for the day. When my alarm went off, I defied all my sleepiness and prided myself in actually rousing myself and successfully showering (though I did try to wash my body in conditioner on accident... so I wasn't all there). I come back in the room, gloating a little on the inside, priding myself in being a morning person while all my roommates were still sleeping. Then Sarah turns over, looks at me standing there in my towel, and says, "You know it's canceled, right? Snow." So I went back to bed. Serves me right.

It ended up being very much an errand/homework day, and in the evening, there was a Hyde Park stake dance most of the girls were planning on going to. Kate and I dolled ourselves up with the rest of them, only to secretly confide in each other we had no desire or intention of competing for the attention of a slim picking of pre-mission British boys with a large group of testosterone-deprived American girls that we have to sleep in the same room with. So while everyone else headed off for the dance, Kate and I snuck out to Bella Italia's, a very delicious, very romantic Italian restaurant. It turned out to be a lovely date indeed. We sat at our table for two, surrounded by couples and gazing at each other across the candle that separated us. I guess it didn't help that when the waitress came, I stepped up and ordered the mozarella breadsticks for two, and then the Godfather dessert for two. All that was missing was a fat accordian player singing, "Thiiiiiis is the niiiiiight."

Saturday consisted of a long run through Hyde Park, an abs workout, a shower, homework, and a matinee showing of the "best new comedy," 39 steps. I won't say much about it except that there's not much to say. Well, the theatre was cute.

In the evening, we went to Nando's for Abby's birthday dinner (actually, I stopped and got Cafe Diana take-out and ate it at Nando's with them...), and 4 of the boys they had met at the dance on Friday came to celebrate as well. They were... young, possibly attractive if one tilts one's head and squints one's eyes and ignores the fact that they were all trying to flirt with every girl to test the waters, not realizing that every girl there noticed it. Smooth like some very British butta. Anyway, they were nice guys, and we had fun with them. After dinner we split into two groups to do a video scavenger hunt throughout London. Yes, there is now footage of me getting a random fruity-looking guy's number off the street, successfully convincing him that he just "caught my eye," "I really never do this," and "No, no, it's not a scavenger hunt, I don't know why she's recording this." He bought it, hook line and sinker, and was only distressed because he believed I wouldn't actually call him. What can I say, when you've got game, you've got game. Fun, fun, night.

Today is a whole story of itself, and it deserves a separate post, so that is coming very very soon. I'm going to try to upload pictures from this week, but who knows with this internet. Cheers!

There'll be blue birds over the white cliffs of Dover

2009-02-05T10:25:00.003Z

It's about time for my Thursday update on my Wednesday excursions. Very, very early in the morning, we, the girls, the teachers, and Tony the coach driver, set out on a long ride to the East coast of England, destination Dover.

Dover, as I mentioned, is a coastal city, known for its strikingly white cliffs along the bank of the English channel. On a clear day, standing on the cliffs, you can see the coast of France, only 22 miles away. As we pulled up to the cliffs, one of the professor's wives got on the loud speaker to sing us the WWII tune, "There'll be blue birds over the white cliffs of Dover."

We drove up on top of the cliffs themselves, and split into two groups to go on a guided tour through the underground tunnels, some of them dating back to the Napoleonic wars but more recently instrumental during WWII. Tony the coach driver was the usual delight -- he bolted right in to the entrance of those caves, elbowing girls out of his way to get the prime spot. Oh, Tony.

The tunnels were really interesting, though. I was thinking of my dad throughout the whole thing -- Dad, if you ever get a chance, come here. You would love it. Unfortunately, we weren't permitted to take pictures inside (I did sneak one picture...it was too cool). I wish I could have gotten a picture of the dorm rooms there and the mess halls.... they were both remarkably reminiscent of our dorm rooms and eating situation here at the centre. Hmmm.

After the mildly claustrophobic tunnel tour, we were left to ourselves to explore Dover Castle before we got back on the coach and drove down along the wharf of the bay to see the cliffs from a rather spectacular view. Then we hurried along to the town of Canterbury, bemusedly listening as Tony forgot to turn off his microphone when he got a little road rage. Oh, Tony.

Next was St. Augustine's Abbey. At first, we were all dreading going to -- yet another abbey. I, however, was delighted when we arrived to see it was the ruins of an abbey. What a nice change, seeing the effects of time on the works of man, untouched, unrestored, merely -- natural. We walked among grave stones dating back to 620 AD, wandered around pieces of remaining pillars, walked up tired stone stairs.

Finally, we went to Canterbury Cathedral, something I've been looking forward to for a very long time. I have to be honest, when we did the initial run-through of the cathedral, I got caught up in the popular photo-shoot kind of visit, and went along with the general pace of the small group of girls I was with. As they were pressing us to leave the cathedral so we would have time to go to some boutiques, I stopped right in front of the Great West Door. I realized I had just skimmed through Canterbury Cathedral. It is very likely that that would be the only time in my life I have a chance to go there, and I almost went through it without experiencing it. So I waved the other girls on to leave without me, and stood at the end of the nave, gazing around me, and for the first time allowing the weight of the emotions of that place to take me over. As I started to get a little teary, the clock struck 3, so it was time for the priest's hourly prayer. What an amazing experience, standing there alone at the head of Canterbury Cathedral, speaking along with the priest the words of the Lord's Prayer. It is a feeling I will never forget. It also was a great reminder that most of the girls here do not place such a high importance on the things I do, and I need to not sacrifice experiences I've been looking forward to forever. I also had the unique experience of purchasing an illustrated prologue to the Canterbury Tales in Canterbury Cathedral itself.

Today was a pretty full day as well. After the morning classes, Kate, Sarah, Elizabeth, Jenna and I headed to Leicester Square to buy tickets for a performance of Jersey Boys this evening. Seriously, being a student here rocks -- we get the best seats in the house for half price! So I have never paid more than 25 pounds for a show, and I've gotten ground-floor seats all but once. Probably the best seats I had were for the Lion King -- we were about 6 rows back, and in a show where elephants and gazelles go down the aisles of the ground floor, those were the seats to have. Anyway, after we got the tickets, we headed to this adorable cupcake place in Covent Gardends called Candy Cakes. Holy crap. Delicious. And adorable. There are cupcakes all over the shop window, the walls are painted green, and you sit around blue tables on pink cushy chairs. The cupcakes themselves are a more muffiny-type cake with candy-type frosting. Oh and there was this totally rude guy on the tube who condescendingly explained to us what a bus was and asked us if we had them in America. Come on.

Jersey Boys was actually a lot better than I expected. For those of you who don't know, it's the story of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. The story was not that amazing, just because it was a lot of narration, but the songs were so great. The guy who played Frankie was so so talented. We started out towards the back of the ground floor, but at intermission we ended up moving up to the second row seats, because nobody was sitting in them! We couldn't let such excellent seats go to waste :) And when Frankie sang "You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you..." I cried. The whole show was so fun, and we were constantly clapping along and singing along and dancing along, and the curtain call was a big dance party between the cast and the audience.

Okay, but London gets loud at night. It's so weird. During the day, you go on the tube, people stare at their laps and avoid eye contact and glare at people who talk. You walk down the street and maybe you'll bump into some French people chatting loudly or a group of school children being rowdy, but for the most part, it's pretty devoid of human noise. Once it gets around 10:30, somehow everything gets loud. People yell on the streets, talk really loudly on the tube... so weird. Maybe it's because by then everyone's had enough drinks to forget their prim British manners that forbid them to act human. And seriously, we get free passes into clubs with every 3 steps we take that time of night, it's exhausting. After the show, we ended up chilling at a second-level (or rather 1st floor in Europe) restaurant right on the famous corner of Picadilly Circus, chatting and people-watching. This has really been a delightful evening.

Another fun little blip -- the other night some of the girls watched Father of the Bride II, and it struck me as odd that Steve Martin was driving on the right side of the road. Then I realized it was odd that it struck me as odd, and I shared a very odd moment with myself. I'm also nervous that when I get back I'll keep asking for the toilet instead of the restroom and trying to get in on the wrong side of the car.

I realize how long this post is. Wow. But it's all stuff that I don't want to forget, even if most of you don't make it through this entire post. And I know my family will love it :) Coming soon will be pictures and also a list of things I miss and things I definitely do not miss. And tomorrow I'm sure I'll have even more to tell, because we're going to the Tower of London!!!

DOVER:

CANTERBURY:

ST. AUGUSTINE'S:

London's biggest snow in 18 years

2009-02-02T20:18:00.008Z

Yesterday, half of London was shut down for the biggest snow storm London's had in 18 years. Seriously. (By the way, that huge snowball it's showing in Kensington Gardens... we climbed on top of that very one haha weird) In the morning, Jenna, McKenzie, McKell and I tried to take the tube to Whole Foods, but the tube was entirely shut down. We walked, passing tons of shops, only a handful of which were actually open. With the tubes and buses down, nobody could get to work. Whole Foods, luckily, was open, so after doing a little grocery shopping, we split a cab to get back home, as cabs are virtually the only sort of transportation that's still running.

Though I had a considerable amount of homework screaming in my ear "I'm due tomorrow!" I gave in and headed over with some girls to Kensington Gardens to have a series of massive snow fights. Seriously, so much fun. The park was overflowing with people enjoying a nice and very rare snow day. We all got soaking wet and freezing cold, but we had a helluva time, and other people seemed to notice. At one point, a couple of guys recorded us wrestling in the snow on their home video. Another guy took pictures of us as we attempted to climb a giant snowball. Another group of Italian guys by the pond attempted to start a snowball fight with us, ignoring all our protestations of indifference, and took turns bombing us, then running up and shoving snow balls down the backs of our shirts. They also threw snowballs at the poor freezing swans. Not cute. But London looks beautiful in the snow, and yesterday was a very memorable day. Yesterday night, however, catching up on all my homework, not so memorable. (Pictures thanks to McKell and Alyssa)

Today was a long day. It started off with Kate in the bunk above me not waking up to her talking alarm clock to help with breakfast, so the rest of us tried to sleep through through a very loud and incessant, "It's 7:10 am, it's 7:10 am, it's 7:10 am" until of course it turned into "It's 7:11 am, it's 7:11 am." Breakfast was delicious, though -- Amish oatmeal. Seriously, it's like a fluffy oatmeal cookie, and you put fresh strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, whatever on it and top if off with cream. Yummm. After both of my English classes, the whole group of us headed over to St. Paul's Cathedral. Unfortunately, we couldn't take pictures inside, but it was stunning! Definitely one of the most beautiful buildings I've ever been in. Then we got to climb up to the top of the dome and look down on the inside from the place called the Whispering Gallery. It's named that because if one person stands across the dome from you and whispers something, you can hear it all the way from the other side. I also really loved seeing an effigy of John Donne.

Okay, speaking of John Donne, I'm going to go off on him for a second. We also went to the National Portrait Gallery last week, where I got to see the original portrait of him, and then today I saw his effigy, and I need to talk about him for a second, because I seemed to be the only one who knows who he is. He is an AMAZING poet with an even more amazing story. He was dean of St. Paul's during his lifetime, a man who had once been scorned for his libertine and erotic poetry. He gave incredibly inspiring sermons, and he coined many phrases we still hear today, like "No man is an island," and "for whom the bell tolls." All of you need to research John Donne. Okay, stepping off my literary soapbox now.

Dahling, do you love the theatre?

2009-02-02T00:25:00.004Z

Just a quick update this evening. I'm lying in bed underneath the covers, watching the snow fall outside the window, slowly turning London white. However, I want to get to bed before 1 am tonight, so I shall be brief. Besides, as Polonius says, "Brevity is the soul of wit." And we all know how witty I am.

The past few days have been filled with music and costumes and applause. Thursday evening was my first time seeing a live production of The Lion King. All in all, it was mostly silly, and I know I was not alone in sometimes wondering, for example during the hyenas' song "Let's chow down," "What what what am I watching?" I would not go see it again, though it was not wholly unenjoyable. The costumes were as amazing as was to be expected, and the scenery was not a disappointment. Plus, though Simba's voice was an uncomfortable falsetto, his BODY left nothingto be desired. Talk about pecs. Plus, I wore my new dress, which apparently is my power dress. After the show, we tried to flirt our way (unsuccessfully) into getting a free ride home. Apparently you can't fit 30 girls in one pedicab.

Friday, the professors took all of us to see the musical "A Little Night Music," which turned out to be, I think it's safe to say, much racier than they had anticipated. We saw a bit of nudity, heard many an obvious double-entendre, and turned our heads from more-than-suggestive on-stage intimacy. As it turns out, the entire plot is pretty much about sex and infidelity. Whodathunk. Oh, and did I mention I ended up in the seat right next to my professor, Dr. Durham? Because I did, and it was awkward. But at any rate, the venue was adorable -- called the Chocolate Factory, it was a restaurant/pub, and theatre-in-the-round. The performers were really talented, also, and I enjoyed the very typical Sondheim-style music, especially the song "Send in the Clowns." As we hopped on the tube after, we ended up on the same train as 3 of the actors, who were blessed to experience the delight of 20 giggling American girls.

A lot more has happened since I last wrote, of course, but at the moment I don't find myself in the humor to expound, nor do I find myself inclined to post pictures. No,I shall lay in bed and fall asleep content with the thought that I sleep in snowy London.

Not in my castle on a cloud

2009-01-28T19:15:00.008Z

First of all, never ever settle down in East London. As a matter of fact, avoid going there at all costs. Last night, all but 8 of us in the group headed there to embark on a Jack the Ripper walking tour, visiting all of the major sites associated with the Jack the Ripper killings int he 1800s. Honestly, I can't fathom why I ever thought it would be cool. Not only was it freezing cold and a 2-hour walking tour, but the brutality and gore of the whole subject was far beyond disturbing. We saw photographs of mutilated bodies, stood on the spots where they were found. It was completely offensive to not only the chastity and cleanliness of the body, but of the sanctity of life. That part of town in and of itself was freaky enough; I don't recall seeing a woman at all on the streets; no, the streets were teeming with angry and yelling or angry and staring drunk men. We were also taken down the street that earned the name, "The worst street in London." Needless to say, I would not recommend this particular "attraction" to other London-travelers. It ranked up there for me with the Hitler statue in the wax museum. These are not funny, not entertaining.

On a happier note, I just got off the butt-numbing bus ride back from our Wednesday excursion. First, we went to Stourhead, which is an estate and grounds, and it's STUNNING. We walked all around the large, triangle lake, and saw so many beautiful views that I probably have 50 pictures just from there. One of the small temples on the grounds, called the Temple of Apollo, was where the first proposal scene was filmed in the new Pride and Prejudice. You know, the one with the rain and the hottie Mr. Darcy and the almost-kiss. Pretty amazing. We took a little longer here than was planned, as we were all overcome with the beauty, and consequently got lightly reprimanded over the speaker in the bus (oops!).

The next stop was Winchester. We saw yes-- another cathedral. We did a quick run-through of this one, mainly just to see the tomb of Jane Austen, then we headed to a great hall that was the only part left of a medieval Norman castle, the rest of which was destroyed during the Civil War. It was cute and featured a round table hanging on the wall that was once believed to be King Arthur's, though it has been discovered to date to the 14th century.

The last stop was Portchester Castle. I find it amusing to compare my hair in the first pictures of the day, in which it's pin straight, to the pictures at the Castle, where, after a day of humidity and light rain, it's remarkably very curly. Anyway, Portchester castle was right on the ocean, and has played numerous significant roles in history since it was begun in the third century. I may have spoiled my new boots here when I accidentally stepped in a huge puddle. Stink. It was also interesting and quite an adventure to climb the narrow tower of tiny spiral stone stairs, as I am prone to chlostrophobic tendencies. The view on top, however, was worth it, as you will see in the pictures below.

Wednesdays are tiring days, what with the early morning and all the bus-riding and the schedules and meeting places, and by the time we get off the bus we're usually dying to pee and eat and go to sleep. Now having already accomplished the first two tasks, I'm feeling a lot better, and am preparing to do laundry.

Here are only a small selection of some of the amazing pictures from today. Oh, and p.s. I went to Cafe Diana for dinner (again, hehe), and they have the most AMAZING hummus I've ever had. Yummm.

Stourhead

The Temple of the Apollo -- where the famous scene was filmed

On the grounds -- by the way, that's the bridge Elizabeth Bennett (Keira Knightly) runs across in the movie

Exactly where the proposal takes place

More of the Temple of Apollo

"I love you... most ardently."
In Queen Eleanor's garden behind the Great Hall in Winchester

Forgive all the water spots... it was raining.
Inside the Great Hall.... we're dorks
The city of Winchester
Portchester Castle
A view from the top -- you can see the churchyard and the ocean

Down below
The moat

A few more pictures to come when the internet stops its temper tantrum

Camden Town, Where the Rough Lay Down

2009-01-27T16:16:00.004Z

So after a bit of consideration, I have decided to keep my blog public after all, at least for the time being. Should I decide to change my mind again in the future, which may very well happen, I will hang onto the list of you that have expressed the desire to be kept in the loop. Thank you all for having lives boring enough to live through mine.

Since I last updated, I have had several personal little victories that are worth mentioning:

I...

1. ...met someone named Nigel.
2. ...was asked for directions on the street, and gave them successfully (and in a British accent -- it avoids the endless questions about America)
3. ...paid for treats in all coins -- withOUT having to read what each coin amount was
4. ...understood the trash talk of a couple French girls who apparently didn't think Kate and I looked lovely after having run through Hyde Park and also apparently didn't know I speak French.

Not too much else has happened since my Wednesday trip to Stonehenge and Bath. On Saturday, Kate and I went to Camden market, which is similar to Portobello market in that it's a street lined with booths of all sorts. In Camden, apparently, we'd found the punk/goth center of London -- there were more gauged ears, nose rings, and purple pleather jackets than you'd find at a Slipknot concert. A sign on a building advertising Camden real estate donned the slogan "Camden Town -- Where the Rough Lay Down." We really knew we'd found our new favorite place when the first booth we saw exclusively sold studded collars. After wandering the market, recognizing full well that we had both acquired a faint smell of pot, we saw a double decker bus stop, and, not knowing its destination, impulsively hopped on. We rode around on the top level of the double decker for a while, enjoying traveling through the city not underground. It is so beautiful here.

Sunday, though our usual route on the tube was under construction, we actually got to church on time -- nay, early! It was a very long day still.

Yesterday, I found myself in a pensive and reclusive mood, so I spent a pleasant day alone. I ran errands, then, finding the weather ideal, I threw on a jacket and strolled through Hyde Park, soaking up the beauty of the day. I eventually made my way to a bench, where I sat and wrote in my journal and read Northanger Abbey. When I got hungry, I headed to Cafe Diana, where I'd say I'm officially a regular, and enjoyed a nice almond croissant and some fresh mint tea. Though I really like the friends I have made here and enjoy taking trips with them, I find it very pleasureable to spend some days in peaceful and undisturbed solitude. In the evening, I went with a couple of girls to their ward's YSA FHE. It was fun to spend the night with native Londoners who found it really hilarious the way we said "water."

A new favorite amusement for me is reading the London Paper, a free "newspaper" that's handed out near tube stations. It's completely sensationalist journalism, but it's entertaining enough to read on long tube rides. Yesterday, I read a splendid article on London young men spending their severance packages on plastic surgery to increase their odds at finding a new job. The article actually mentioned men wanting to get rid of their "man boobs," and also later referred to them as "moobs." Fantastic.

I don't really have any great pictures to post, but I should have some Wednesday after our trip to Winchester. My next mission here is to find a nice place to get a haircut that's within my price range. (Kate also needs to find someone to "bang her trims." Nice, Kate.) Other goals to accomplish soon are going through the Charles Dickens museum, visiting the Sylvia Plath properties, going to The Sound of Music, and seeing Revolutionary Road which comes to theatres this weekend. Peace out, babies!

For all those who want to keep reading

2009-01-26T00:04:00.003Z

Hello all, I have decided to make my blog private, meaning only those whom I approve may view it. If you want to be able to keep reading this lovely account of my London adventures, just send me your email address, or post it as a comment to this post. Even if you are just friends of friends I talk about, just let me know, and I'll be more than happy to include you in the list!

How it will work is once I make it private, you will just need to be logged in to read my blog. Not too complicated.

Thanks, duckies! New post with updates to come later.

Baths, Stones, Cathedrals, and Giraffes

2009-01-22T11:15:00.005Z

Tony the coach driver is gluten-free, can't eat anything with barley oats or rye, and has a hard time finding restaurants to accommodate him. After spending about 8 hours with him on the coach yesterday, we certainly learned a lot from the endearing meets annoying wanna-be tour bus driver. We set off at 7:15 am, which would seem to indicate that most of us wanted to spend the ride sleeping, but only few of us successfully drowned out Tony's endless commentaries on canal systems, wonky houses, his diet, and exactly how small something has to be to be considered a hamlet. His monologues were often interrupted either by a coughing bit we all got to enjoy over the loud speaker, or a pause for him to giggle about his latest comment (for this, he turned off the speaker). But we love Tony.

That happy little coach bus hauled forty girls, three teachers, two spouses, and a chatty bus driver to several different lovely locations yesterday. Our first stop was the city of Bath, named, remarkably, because it is full of Roman baths. It used to be basically a spa city, where people went to relax and to be healed from various ailments. The main baths were really well-preserved, and the great bath is still full of water, with its source a hot spring underneath of it. They still treat the water the same way the Romans did, with specific minerals that are supposed to give it healing powers. Kind of cool.

The city of Bath was so beautiful. I could have taken a picture of every single building, and every one would have been awe-inspiring. We got to see the house where Jane Austen lived, though we didn't have time to tour through it. We also saw the house where Nicholas Cage sometimes lives. Sucky that out of all the celebrities whose houses we could have seen, it had to be Nicholas Cage, whom none of us would even care to meet -- there was a general consensus that we rank him around Brendan Frasier and Keanu Reeves.

After Bath, we headed to Stone Henge -- something I've been looking forward to since I first decided to go on this trip. I've always had a fascination with its history and its supposed mystical aura and powers. Though it was beautiful and still maintained its curious history, I honestly was a little disappointed with it. Difficult though it is to say, it kind of did just seem like exactly what it is -- a circle of stones. There was no real spirit or eeriness about the place. I did still enjoy it.

Our last stop was at Salisbury Cathedral. Honestly, at that point most of us on the bus were ready to head back home instead of touring yet another cathedral, that all seem to look so similar. As soon as we got there, though, I fell in love. This was definitely my favorite cathedral, as it was done entirely in the Gothic style, not the mixture of styles in most other cathedrals. At every turn, there was something new and stunning. For this cathedral, we had a guided tour by a 100-year-old man who talked so softly I'm not sure he could even hear himself. But he was cute, and pointed to everything with his walking cane.

After we got back, a few of us headed out for dinner. Following the suggestion written on my bunk bed by a former student, we found a restaurant called Giraffe, which was pretty affordable, and the food was quite good. Our waiter, though, was hilarious. I'm not sure how he even has a job there, because apparently he hates every food on the menu. We would ask him for a recommendation, he wouldn't have any, we'd ask him if he liked a particular dish, he'd grimace. It was somehow very endearing, and we were delighted to eavesdrop on another table that was so foolish as to ask his opinion on a choice of dish. For dessert, we shared a rocky road sundae, which was more than satisfying. I haven't had ice cream in a long time.

Today I think will be a more relaxing sort -- we had class this morning, but I've got a migrane and Kate's stomach is twisty turny, so we're going to read for our classes, then maybe wander through Green Park. Then, tonight we're going to a Verdi/Tchaikovsky/one other weird composer concert at the Royal Concert Hall. Other things I'm looking forward to in the next little bit are a visit to the Speaker's Corner in Hyde Park, a Jack the Ripper tour next Tuesday, and our next Wednesday's excursion to Winchester.

Oh, and apparently I've been getting quite an anonymous following. Hello to Kate's family and friends who want to hear more about London than just that we found Dr. Pepper Zero! Hello everyone who's reading this on direction from my dad! As we say in England, cheers!

By the abbey in Bath

Staring Jane Austen in the face in front of her house. We feminist writers, we ain't scared o nothin', not even each other.

In Bath, the baths...

On the left is a house that the owner hasn't paid to have cleaned. All of that muck is from air pollution. All the building used to look like that at one point, but most of the city has been cleaned, and there are a lot of regulations now to keep the air cleaner.
Being a tree with Amy. This is the Circus (circle) in Bath -- behind us, number 8, is Nicholas Cage's house.
Me and Kate in front of the Pulteney Bridge in Bath -- it's lined with shops
Me and Elizabeth at Stonehenge

In the courtyard of the chapter house at Salisbury Cathedral
Inside Salisbury Cathedral

A tube, a train, a bus, a tram, a walk, but get me to the church on time!

2009-01-20T15:49:00.011Z

The past couple of days have been replete with memories for the books, so I have a feeling this post will be longer than I am intending it to be. Saturday was my friend Kate's birthday, so, as her personal alarm clock, my first gift to her was letting her sleep until 11:30. My next present was letting her go one more day (that was day number 3) without showering. Don't tell her I told you. We went to brunch at Cafe Diana, which is a little street cafe a couple of blocks away, named after Princess Di, and full of pictures of her. The cafe was adorable, and actually pretty cheap, so it will definitely become a regular place for us. We had been deciding what we wanted when two police officers walked in, and one of them seriously had the biggest butt I've ever seen in my life. We were all laughing, and we ended up getting a picture with him (we didn't tell him why). Too bad you couldn't see his butt.

After, we went to Portobello road, which is a really famous open-air market in London, within walking distance of where we live. There were tons of venders selling a variety of items of a wide range of quality. I ended up buying two antique books (I couldn't help it!). My favorite was a really nice edition of Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities from 1900. Deeelish! Sometimes I can be such a freak.

In the evening, a big group of girls wanted to go out with us to celebrate, so we ventured out in search of a restuarant that would accomodate such a large number of us. I've noticed that at least from what I've seen, English people usually travel alone or in very small groups. I normally do too, but this particular night we had 19 of us. Finally we found a suitable place and had a really nice Italian dinner.

Now, several people have asked me if I'm homesick at all, and I say no. Which is true. However, I have gotten a little tired of being a foreigner. I don't exactly know how to describe the sensation, but it's just a feeling where people always know you don't quite belong, usually by your accent, or the fact that you're eating dinner with a large pack of loud girls. You tend to get a lot of negative attention. While we were eating, an old British lady straight out of The Princess Bride walked past, hunchbacked and glaring us all in the eye, and croaked, "Rubbish, rubbish, rubbish from abroad, with faces like dogs." I waited to be called the queen of putresence, but, dissappointingly, it didn't come.

At least, however, I don't seem to look American. I've already been mistaken for Italian and Spanish. That's some relief, I suppose.

Sunday, getting to church was certainly an adventure. There were closures on our normal hour-and-a-half commute, so we had to add a bus ride to our journey. We walked to the tube station, took the tube, the train, then a bus, the tram, and walked to the chapel. All in all it took more than 2 hours, making us 20 minutes late for church, walking in just in time for the second counselor to call us up to bear our testimonies. Talk about embarrassing.

That was, however, my first time riding a double decker bus. We sat on the top floor (of course), but in the front seats on the left side where, in America, the driver would normally sit. It was a strange sensation, as to our eyes, we were riding in a very large vehicle with no apparent driver. The entire time, I was convinced we were either going to tip over or maul every other car, bicyclist, and pedestrian on the road and sidewalk. It was more than once that we had to go up on a curb or cross and straddle the lane dividing us from oncoming traffic. I was not heart-broken to exit that bus.

---Okay, totally random, but I started this post earlier today, and I just got back from watching the inauguration ceremony at a local pub, and let me just say, WOW. I still have chills. What an incredible day, today. I think about how my dad was raised in the time of segregated schools, lived to see the integration of his high school, and now lives to see a black man elected President of the United States of America. I am so deeply moved with the importance of this day. I believe I will always remember it. ---

Digression over. Yesterday, Martin Luther King Jr. day, was pretty chill. Sarah, Kate and I went for a run through Hyde Park again, and I spent the bulk of the day reading Titus Andronicus for my Shakespeare class today. In the evening, we went to see Australia at Odeon cinema in Whiteley's, which is a shopping center about a 5-minute walk away. Random fact -- Whiteley's is known to have been Adolf Hitler's favorite building in London, and it is believed that he would have made it his headquarters had he been successful in taking London during WWII.

Today, after British mysteries and Shakespeare, a large group of us spent the day at Madame Tussaud's wax museum. Normally, it would have cost 27 pounds, around 40 dollars, but since today is Inauguration Day, all Americans got in free. Tight. So I wandered around with Kate and Elizabeth and even got a picture with "Obama" in the "Oval office," a new part of the museum that was unveiled today. I guess every once in a while there are benefits to being an American overseas :) At least with Obama as president.

I actually am getting on well with all the girls here, even though I share one room with eleven others. However, now that we've been here a couple of weeks, the "girls camp" stage is coming to an end, and I think some real personalities are going to start shining through in new ways. I pray every night though that we will keep peace here at 27 Palace Court. There is also a seemingly invincible smell of feet, hairspray, and dirty clothes in the room that will not be ousted.

Another fun little update: Melvin (the guy who works nights at our convenience store) now knows us by name, as does Hamid, who works most days, and they are keeping DPZ (Dr. Pepper Zero) and coconut Hit biscuits in stock specifically for us. What a lovely place.

Here are some fun pictures at Mme Tussaud's:

I'm just a girl...standing in front of a boy...asking him to love her.

Chillin' with George and Audrey. I look really weird in this picture, but I had to put it up. Come on. It's me and Audrey.

Johnny... he's more like my casual Tuesday.

Nicole, me, Leo, Kate, Keira, and Elizabeth. We're inseperable.
Gone with the Wind!

This one's for Juli

Ooooh, Julia

Van Gogh just didn't seem right with both ears attached.

With the late Princess

Alfred Hitchcock

Humphrey Bogart's a dream boat

Here's the money

Thriiiiller

Chillin' with Charlie Dickens, contemplating many deep and insightful things

London and I, we're tight

2009-01-16T21:41:00.005Z

So I've decided that I am never leaving. Sorry to all my friends and family back in the States, but you can't help with whom you fall in love, and in my case, I have fallen in love with a city and wish never to be parted from it. In the last few days, we've hit up St. Alban's, where the fog was so heavy and thick it masked the beautiful landscape in a magical mist, an American WWII cemetary, Cambridge (where we found Jesus Lane and a ton of the most adorable boutiques), Covent Gardens, and Westminster Abbey.

The English countryside we saw on the way to St. Alban's was stunning -- exactly my idea of perfection. For those of you who have not witnessed it yourself, it really is straight out of the new Pride and Prejudice. The heavy fog, the sparse but beautifully wild trees, all smattered with a few towns of charming, brick, ivy-colored houses. Though the bus ride was early and I had planned to sleep, I found I couldn't stop looking out the window. The one drawback -- it was freezing. Very literally.
Cambridge was exactly as a university should be, in my opinion. Though it is a prestigious school, it is located in a rather small town, full of narrow streets lined with boutiques and cafes. We had time to wander around the town, and Kate and I found Jesus Lane, which is right next to Jesus College, and also a Jesus Lane Friends Meeting House. It will never cease to amuse us. After a day of shopping and wandering and eating (I had the most delicious panini at a little cafe), we all met up at the King's College chapel to attend an Anglican evensong. Though the small men's chorus was beautiful, we were all tired and found it difficult to participate in all the standing, sitting, kneeling, turning that was part of the service.

A group of us went to Covent Garden yesterday. Not knowing much about it beforehand, we assumed we were going to arrive and stroll through grass and trees and benches. We were a little surprised when we emerged from the tube station to find a wide street full of people and shops and theaters. When we walked down the street a ways and reached the Piazza, we saw a street performing magician from Saudi Arabia who beckoned us over to watch his show. He had an off-putting sort of humor, but I found him hilarious. When he asked for the participation of a young French schoolboy who didn't speak English (I translated a bit for him), he said, referring to the boy's backpack, "You can take off your parachute, you've landed now." I can't remember many of his other jokes, but he was certainly entertaining. We ended up making our way to Leicester Square, where almost all of the London movie premiers are held. Just the day previous, I believe, they had held the London premier of the new Will Smith movie, Seven Pounds. We have made it a goal to attend at least one movie premier while we're here. The new Daniel Craig movie should be premiering here soon...

After, we stopped in at the Pattisserie Valerie near Picadilly Circus and got desserts that were divine (though pricey). It will take quite a bit to work off those calories. We made another brief stop at China Town, where a funny thing happened. There are rows and rows of Chinese lanterns all down the main street, and we wanted a group picture at the top of the street with the lanterns in the background. Alyssa gave a man her camera and asked him to take a picture of us. So there we stood at the end of the street, posing in a group while he took a few pictures. We thanked him and waved him goodbye, only to look at the pictures and see that not one of them had us in it. He had taken pictures of the lanterns. Only the lanterns.

We have also begun to form habits here. We have made a habit of jogging through Hyde Park, which has become rather enjoyable. It's much easier to jog at sea level than it is at the elevation of Utah. It's pleasant to jog by Kensington Palace, past the Peter Pan statue, by the fountains. Also, I've discovered that I love Aero hot chocolate and bueno bars. Kate and I have become regulars at a little convenience store two blocks away, which we fondly refer to as "Melvin's," in honor of the guy who works nights there with whom we've become friends. Our regular buys include Kate's must-have Dr. Pepper Zero and Hit biscuits (cookies) with coconut filling.

This morning we went as a group to tour Westminster Abbey, which was, as you can guess, gorgeous. I saw the tombs of Queen Elizabeth I, Bloody Mary, and Mary Queen of Scots. However, my absolute favorite part of the abbey was the Poets' corner. I was awed to be in the presence of the tombs and busts of so many writers I study and admire. Some of my favorites were Samuel Johnson, Aphra Behn, Geoffrey Chaucer, Charles Dickens, Thomas Hardy, Ben Johnson, William Congreve, and William Wordsworth. It was an amazing experience.

In the afternoon, Kate and I found some amazing thrift shops, called charity shops, here. They were filled with vintage retro designer stuff at amazing prices. We will most likely end up spending a lot of our time and a big bulk of our spending money there. Today I bought an adorable coat, amazing black pumps, and a really unique bag, all for a steal!

I'm really excited for our trip next Wednesday to Stone Henge, although I've heard it is freezing there. We're also working on planning a trip to Scotland for a weekend, and possibly another to Ireland.

I wanted to add pictures to this post, but the internet here is really unreliable, and it's not letting me right now. So check back in the next couple of days to see pictures! I love you all.

We mind the gap

2009-01-13T13:01:00.003Z

So far I have already acquired a heap of favorite anecdotes, and an ocean of favorite pictures from my six days in London. Here are a couple little snippets for you:

Saturday night, as Kate, Amy, Caitlyn and I were walking home from the King's Head pub at around 10:30 pm, we passed two men in trench coats on the sidewalk. After we were out of earshot, Caitlyn whispered, "I'm pretty sure that was Jack Black. I think we just walked by Tenacious D." Without a second's hesitation, the rest of us wheeled around to see the men who were now well down the street from us. Sometimes in life there are moments when, despite all reasoning that informs you very plainly of the craziness of your actions, you simply have to follow that impulse. This was one of those moments. All four of us took off down the street towards the men, almost running to catch up to Jack Black. What we would do when we caught him, we didn't know. Luckily for us, though, we didn't find out. Just as we almost caught up with them, "Jack Black" turned to the side, we halted, and realized no, it was not a celebrity, but in fact a very ordinary, rather unattractive man we had all just pursued.

Yesterday, Monday, was a really enjoyable day. After breakfast and our required religion class, Kate, Caitlyn and I headed over to Hyde Park to go -- yes -- speed walking. Jogging is so last year. Looking admittedly silly, we braved the chilling London wind and journeyed through the beautiful park, past the pigeons and the benches and the trees, past Kensington Palace and all its grounds, and around the pond where we nervously tried to pass unnoticed through the endless flock of dangerous-looking swans. I'm not one for jogging, and speed walking does make me feel a little ridiculous, but if you're going to do either, do it in Hyde Park.

In the afternoon, a whole bunch of us headed to Harrod's, which, if you don't know, is a huge department store that takes up an entire city block. It has everything -- home furnishings, shoes and accessories, clothes, restaurants, you can even buy pets there. We wandered around the women's shoes, since Harrod's is currently having its once-a-year sale. It only took a couple of minutes, though, for us to realize that all the shoes marked 50-70% off were still upwards of 200 pounds and well beyond our price ranges. I had to get something, though, and finally resorted to going to the touristy Harrod's gift shop and buying a five-pound journal. One funny moment -- we were walking through the makeup section, and Kate pointed out that she wanted to get some Chanel nail polish -- and what I heard was that she wanted to get some "chanail polish." Maybe you had to be there.

After dinner, we dressed up all fancy schmancy and peaced out to Picadilly Circus, where we saw Les Miserables in the Queen's Theater. As a student, if you show up an hour before the curtain, you can get the best seats still open for half price. So I paid twenty-five pounds to see the most amazing production I've ever seen of my all-time favorite musical. I am seriously tempted to see it again before I leave. It was the quality of production that made me cry not because of the tragic nature of the story, which did admittedly contribute, but because it was so movingly beautiful.

It is now early afternoon on Tuesday, I finished my morning classes (British mysteries and Shakespeare), and a group of us are about to walk down to the Orangerie for high tea.

J'adore London. Okay, I know, wrong language.

A Bunch of Loud Americans

2009-01-09T20:25:00.006Z

I've been here three days, and London is freezing, and exhausting, and wonderful. There are so many places, so many events, so many memorable things I could relate, it's growing hard to be selective. So I'll just hit the highlights of the past few days today.

On Friday, two of my new friends, Kate and Caitlyn (why do I always make friends with blondes?) and I went to a pub a few blocks away called the King's Head. Being American and pub virgins, we were more than a little nervous when we realized we had no clue how to behave in a pub. Do you seat yourselves or wait to be seated? Do you order food at the bar or just drinks? Pay when you order or after you're done? It probably would have been helpful to find these sort of things out before we showed up at the pub. Instead, we stood there nervously looking around to see what other people seemed to be doing so we could copy. Eventually, after seating ourselves at a table and sitting around for a while, we sent Kate up to the bar to get drinks. Though this task turned into her hovering around a middle-aged man for about ten minutes, probably making him believe she expected to be hit on and offered a drink, we paid about five pounds for two waters and a diet pepsi.

The night turned out better than we could have imagined. It wasn't too long before we were joined by a hoard of Norwegian guys on holiday here for a week -- Petter, Marios, Erdeon, Marcus (the American television expert), Nikko, Michael, and a few of their friends. We spent the whole night talking, laughing, teasing, and (not going to lie) flirting with them. As they got smashed, they grew increasingly flabbergasted at our soberness. ("Okay, so you don't drink, but can you do a tequila round?") We politely deflected their questions about our place of residence and declined their invitation to attend a "tequila after-party" at their hotel, but when the pub owners kicked us out at closing, we did coyly hint that we might see them at the same pub the next night, which we did, and had an "epic" time again.

The overall ambience of the pub was more than satisfactory. Dim lighting, a football game on in the background, a sweet bar, and a bit of rowdiness. The entire pub would frequently burst out in a rousing chorus of some football ditty, ending with a cheers and another round of beers. Essentially, we are very much pleased with English pubs and making Norwegian friends.

Now on to the next adventure. Today was our first day attending church here, which was quite an experience. We are all split up among the family wards in the two London stakes (the Hyde Park stake on the North side of the Thames, and the Wandsworth stake on the South side). Abby, Stephanie and I were assigned to the Mitcham ward in the Wandsworth stake, and though church began at 10 am, we had to set off by 8:20 to make it there on time. Getting to church every week requires the following journey: walk to the Bayswater tube station, take the tube to Victoria station, get a ticket for the train (5 pounds or about $7-8), get on the train to the Mitcham station, then get on the tram (2 pounds or about $3), get off at the Mitcham stop, then walk up the hill to the old house, and the chapel is around back in the basement. The whole trip takes an hour and a half one-way, so in combination with the 3 hours of church, it's a 6-hour, $14ish trek every week.

I have to admit that on the way there, I was moaning and grumbling a bit about the journey we had to make and the expenses we'd have to pay while most of the other girls wouldn't have to pay anything to get to church. I started adding up in my head how many shows I could be seeing instead, or how many shirts I could be buying. My heart was definitely not in the right place. But as soon as we walked into the chapel (a couple minutes late because we missed our train stop and then missed our tram), everything changed in less than an instant. The sudden rush of curious, welcoming, expectant smiles that poured out from the small congregation was overwhelming. My heart was softened, and I immediately regretted my begrudging attitude over spending a few pounds every week. Honestly, I couldn't be spending my money on anything more meaningful or important.

As I mentioned, the ward is very small -- only about fifty or sixty members, and with the exception of us, a couple of missionaries, and three or four other people, the ward was entirely black. We were called to be young women's teachers, and we will also be getting up in Sacrament meeting next week to formally introduce ourselves and bear our testimonies.

Church here was such an entirely new experience, and yet somehow it all felt so familiar. I know it is said quite frequently, but the Church really is the same everywhere. There was something comforting in the predictable schedule, in the familiar way of praying, in the same scriptures and the same lessons. And more than anything, I was warmed by the common love, the common spirit, of the members.

Some other brief highlights:
-- Kate falling off the top bunk and somehow landing on her ear
-- Later the same day, Kate getting on her bunk above me and the supports almost snapping in half and the bed falling on my head
-- Taking pictures with the Norwegian boys -- "CROUCH, BI*CH!"
-- Meeting an American boy with a painted green face at Buckingham palace
-- Melvin's convenience story and finding Dr. Pepper Zero
-- Getting separated from my group at Primark and finding my own way home on the tube

Here are a few wonderful pictures.

1. Tower Bridge
2-3 Us with our Norwegian friends outside the King's Head
4. There was a protest going on at the end of our street yesterday. It was pretty rowdy, and afterwards the street was covered with signs.
5. On our way to Buckingham Palace
6. Buckingham Palace
7. The London Eye, and me, Kate, and Caitlyn with our -- EYES, get it?
8-9 Big Benny Wenny

Tower Bridge
Us with our Norwegian friends outside the King's Head

There was a protest going on at the end of our street yesterday. It was pretty rowdy, and afterwards the street was covered with signs.
Green Park, on our way to Buckingham Palace
Buckingham Palace
The London Eye, and me, Kate, and Caitlyn with our -- EYES, get it?
Big Ben

La première journée

2009-01-07T18:12:00.005Z

Today has certainly been the longest day of my recollection. After flying all day on Monday to get to New Jersey, sleeping for pretty much the first time in three days, and doing so for 12 hours, touring Princeton University and remembering why I belong on the East Coast, I headed back to Newark airport to fly internationally for the first time, and to do it alone.

Thankfully, it was executed successfully. I did sit next to an older Indian couple (I was flying Air India) who were not the most considerate people, but they also weren't the least. They talked to each other almost the whole flight in whatever language they were speaking, and did so in voices so loud I'm positive the entire cabin could hear. They also saw fit to remove their shoes the moment they sat down, and keep their feet as close to me as possible. At one point the woman actually had her feet on my lap. And I've smelt better feet. They also kept burping, which was kind of weird. They burped a lot.

Some other highlights of flying Air India included really strong-smelling food and a series of Indian movies, which somehow all turned into dancey, poppy musicals.

Our plane had taken off late and also took longer to get to London than was anticipated, so we landed at about 7:15 am instead of the planned 6:35. I was herded off the plane and followed the wave of tired passengers to the lengthy customs line, at the end of which the lady refused to look at my customs letter and instead interrogated me with a serious of very specific questions trying to catch me in some slip-up that would reveal a plot to bring down the UK. Finally, I passed and proceeded to get my baggage.

I looked around nervously for the two girls I was supposed to meet up with to share a car but only found one of them before everyone had to evacuate the terminal, as the fire alarm was going off. It was -6 degrees celsius outside. We never did find our third girl, but instead had to get in the shuttle car and head off to the London Centre with 2/3 of our original party.

The rest day was spent mainly trying to stay awake. We were greeted by one of the professors, who gave us a brief initiation and our room assignments. After discovering I would be in the room housing 12 girls, which could be found four flights up, I proceeded to haul my suit cases up the stairs, pick a bunk, and get settled.

Then, a few other girls and I went on our first London walk, picking up a muffin for lunch and a one-week tube pass. It will definitely take a while before I don't feel money-retarded here, studying each coin closely to discover its worth. Oh, and I already had my first experience being sexually harassed on the street. On my first day out. Brilliant. We found several promising cafes to check out in the future, as well as a cute little thrift store, where I debated buying a coat.

I haven't taken many pictures yet, but here are a couple that will hopefully satisfy for now.

First picture in London -- me and Mary, fagged from the flight, sitting in the car that took us to the centre.

On the right -- a blurry shot of Amy, me, Lauren, and Elizabeth on the steps of where we live.

On the left -- the view of across the street from the steps of our home.

This is it, ladies and gents

2008-12-30T00:55:00.003Z

All right, this is officially where you all can stay updated on my goings-on in Europe this next semester. I'll try to update it rather regularly and include pictures.

Here's the plan:

Mon Jan. 5th 8 am -- (one week from today!) I leave UT for NJ
Tues Jan. 6th 7 pm -- I leave NJ for London
Wed Jan. 7th 6:30 am -- I arrive in London!

Then a plethora of adventures, classes, finals, packing, and:

Wed April 15th 1:15 pm -- I leave London for NJ
Wed April 15th 4:45 pm -- I arrive in NJ (wow, short flight, right?)

Then more adventures, like Philadelphia, Princeton, NYC, etc.

Sat April 18th 6 am -- I leave NJ for SLC
Sat April 18th 11:15 am -- I'm back in Utah, and probably dead tired

Woohoo, this is so exciting!