Scotland!

Sara and I breathlessly made it onto the train bound for Edinburgh a few minutes before it pulled out of King’s Cross station. As we took our seats, and the announcer bellowed out last call, Sara and I high-fived each other and prepared for the 4.5-hour ride to Scotland.

We had a few hours before check-in when we got to Scotland, so we went to the Edinburgh Museum and marveled at all the men in kilts on the way there. There was even one playing the bagpipes on a street corner. We heard a lot of broad Scottish accents and saw some really red hair- so many aggressively Scottish people.

We ended up going to Costa and chatting with the barista there. He had (obviously) lived in Scotland all his life and was asking us what we were doing in Edinburgh.

Me: “Well, we’re studying abroad in London right now but we’re just here for the weekend.”

Sara: “And we’re from America, obviously.”

Him: “Ah weel ee thought tha’ because ye were either frim America or Canada, but it’s great yee came tee Scotland. Any particular places yee looking for?”

Me: (very fast and excitedly) “The coffee shop where JK Rowling wrote Harry Potter.”

Him: “JK Rowling, yee say? Ah, she was here.”

Me: (gapes)

Him: “Ya, just over there by the window table. Interview or sometheen, few months back.”

Me: (stares and mouths wordlessly while hitting Sara on the arm)

Him: (amused) “She drinks a mediem coffee if yee interested.”

Me: (squeaks)

Luckily, Sara and I managed to meet some people during breakfast and one of them looked up the café on his blackberry for me. It was the called the Elephant House, and wasn’t too far from our Hostel- which was great, by the way. Our roommates were two lovely girls, one who lived in England and one from Japan who was studying abroad for a year in England. They were our age but had already finished university. We spent quite a lot of time passing around a carton of digestive biscuits and comparing and contrasting English and American life in profound emotional and cultural depth:

Jess: Well crisps to you in America are… chips, right?

Me: Yes, and you all call fries chips in England.

Imy: Do you have different names for the loos as well? Isn’t it a… a…

Sara: Bathroom, but you all also call them toilets.

Jess: When I visit New York, I see so many different names for cakes!

Me: Well anything sweet to you all is called a cake here but in America we have cupcakes and brownies and cookies…

Imy: Oh, those are called biscuits here. (waves carton of digestive biscuits)

Jess: What about boys in America? Are they like the ones over here?

Anyway, when Sara and I found the Elephant House, I had a fit. Sara had to pull me back from the street edge so I wouldn’t go dodging around the buses and taxis barreling their way down the (wrong side of the) roads. I was so excited that I kept exclaiming, “I’m so excited!” at an increasing volume and speed until I was squeaking incoherently while pointing ecstatically at the sign outside the shop, which read, “The Elephant House: The Birthplace of Harry Potter.”

Sara and I ordered and then got the last available table in the shop. It’s clearly a popular place and just as clearly God wanted us there (we got the last table!). I got a stack of napkins and Sara and I began scribbling on them, just like JK Rowling did so many years ago. I wrote the first paragraph of the first chapter of the first book (because I possibly had it memorized) on a napkin and even got to pin it up on their bulletin board! Amazing.

Sara went to the bathroom and encouraged me to check it out and to bring my camera. I was in awe. On the walls, countless people had written about Harry Potter. Some had written quotes from the books, either funny (“Go, go Gryffindor!”) or profound (“It is our choices, Harry, far more than our abilities, that show what we truly are.”) Others had written personal messages to JK Rowling. My favorite was, “Thank you, JK Rowling, for my childhood.” Then I wrote, “To JK Rowling, the author of my childhood: thank you for the wonderment of a new world.” I got all teary-eyed and had to leave, but not before I took a picture of the Harry Potter toilet. What an awesome coffee shop. I also made Sara go there with me on Sunday before we left, because I just had to go there again.

Monday: horrible boat tour to Greenwich (radio-recorded tour and discussions of utterly random things, such as Jack the Ripper, with Adam and Tahn), after which the Janes bid us take off on our own and see the amazing sights. They suggested the Royal Observatory, the Prime Meridian line, and several museums. So Sara and I, being the model students that we are, went off and shopped for a few hours, played around in the Astronomy Center (“let me have a turn at making the stars explode!”) along with several class groups of small children, and then got ice cream.

It turns out that Jennie and Amanda went to the same shop we went to and we all ended up looking similarly great for the play that night: The Holy Rosenbergs, which was excellent. It was about a Jewish family on the eve of their son/brother’s funeral (he died fighting in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in Gaza), and they have to deal with the fact that their family business is ending, the other son/brother is a complete failure, and their daughter/sister is investigating the dead brother for war crimes. Very real and touching with family drama and everything. (I had to write a review of it and I promise you it was more articulate than that last sentence :))

Another play on Wednesday, called War Horse. I cried. And gasped and yelled and laughed along with everyone else in the audience. No wonder it won so many awards. If you can create a mechanical, life-sized horse that can be ridden by a person around the stage and act like a real horse to the point where you forget it’s not… then you’re pretty much amazing. Although the sounds for the horses weren’t that great; they should have had me do them. Occupation found.

Excursion to Oxford on Thursday, upon which all us dedicated Hokies discussed how difficult it would be to transfer there. We had a self-confessed crazy (or “mad” as they say here) tour guide, who explained to our bewildered group that we might “see some students getting pelted with utterly awful things but don’t be alarmed! They’re just finishing their exams and that’s how they congratulate one another.” We didn’t necessarily believe her until we watched one girl shake up a bottle of champagne and, with a wicked grin, spray the entire thing on a fellow student who was already covered head to toe in silly string. “You made it!” she cried in a strong English accent while the now-dripping boy grinned sheepishly and we snapped furtive pictures.

Internship all day on Friday. I’ve learned more of the student’s names, but only the ones that constantly get in trouble; the teacher’s always yelling at them, so hearing their names called out in an angry accent twelve times an hour really helps memorization.

Today (Saturday), Sara and I went to Greenwich and hit up a few shops while browsing through a market that had set up in the middle of the square. We went to different stands and ended up in the food section. We each bought a cupcake and munched on them while walking through Greenwich. But then all the icing fell off of mine in a messy, pink splat onto the sidewalk. I stood there for a few moments, looking sadly down at the ground and then back to my now ruined cupcake. Sara told me I looked like a small child whose ice cream had fallen off its cone. Nice to know I’ve matured over the years.

Also, there’s a girl here (Jenna) who’s even more experienced than I am at horseback riding, and she, another girl (Elizabeth), and I are seeing if we can somehow ride in London. And Jennie and I are planning on going back to the Jane Austen museum (!) next Sunday and having tea with Mr. Darcy (!!!).

All in all, things are going well here. Despite the indecisive weather, 3 pound cups of fruit, and absurdly large amounts of tea, London is still pretty enjoyable.

Also, I went on an amazing run in Hyde Park the other day. I looked up at the sky shooting down thick, golden lines of light and thought: you can find God in every country of this world, in every sky.

Love you all!! :)

Scotland was beautifullllll!

 Told ya

More proof :)

"I'M SO EXCITED!"

 Me, dying to get inside.

Inside The Elephant House.

Enjoying over-sugared coffee in THE BIRTHPLACE OF HARRY POTTER.

I know, I know, I was surprised too!

Odes to JK Rowling.

The napkins!

What I wrote is above the 3 line, dark black writing in the middle and to the right of the "Harry!" under the "RIP Gandolf."

My napkin on The Elephant House board! "Mr. and Mrs. Durlsey of Number Four Privet Drive were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd except to be involved with anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense." -The first paragraph of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, written on napkins, as JK Rowling did so many years ago in the Elephant House.  (And a Harry Potter elephant asking, "I'm a wizard?")

Sketchy, blurred picture of kilted man in Scotland. I just had to take it!

 Adam and I on the boat tour to Greenwich.

 Sara and I didn't want to pay to go to the Prime Meridian so we estimated where it was.

Our fantastic, eccentric Oxford tour guide. 

Oxford's motto: "God is our light."

Ridiculously beautiful school. But for the tuition they charge they should have constant rainbows and leprechauns running around and handing out random pots of gold to all the students. 

Right before the champagne. But you can see the silly string!

Hello All!

Week two in London and I feel like I’ve been here two months already.

Tour of Westminster Abbey on Monday, during which it rained in typical London fashion while all my classmates grumbled under weeping umbrellas about how Blacksburg's weather had followed them across the Atlantic.

I liked St. Paul’s better, in all honesty, because in Westminster Abbey our tour guide mentioned the royal wedding every five minutes along with unrelated, gruesome facts inserted at random moments:

“And here is where Kate and William entered to say their vows… and on your right are the tombs of Bloody Mary and her sister, Elizabeth.  Sibling rivalry at its best, in my opinion! Anyone care to guess which one beheaded the other?”

Although there was an interesting part in the Abbey called Poet’s Corner, in which a lot of famous poets, playwrights, and basically the best writers are buried/remembered: Jane Austen, the Brownings, Chaucer, etc.

Poet’s Corner actually gave me an idea for a project here. In addition to completing four other assigned projects, we get to choose our own personal project. And, since we are mostly English majors with creativity akin to a hyperactive squirrel bouncing and bounding around in our cortexes, we jumped at the opportunity.

I decided to take famous poems from the famous poets buried/remembered in Westminster Abbey, keep the opening and concluding lines and the internal structure, but change the majority of the internal wording into my own work. Example below:

Original Work:

Sonnets from the Portuguese 43 by Elizabeth Barret Browning

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

I love thee to the level of everyday's

Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.

I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;

I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,

I shall but love thee better after death.

My Version:

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee with the light and color and sound

My heart can feel, when seeing the wonders

At the ends of this world and the next.

I love thee to the expanse of the night’s

Most endless dark, by the stars and the silences.

I love thee luckily, as men strive for Hope.

I love thee endlessly, as they turn from Time.

I love thee with a soul put to use

In my past pains and with my present faith.

I love thee with a love I never seem to lose

With my lost griefs, -- I love thee with the spirit,

blessings, trials, of all my life! – and, if God choose,

I shall but love thee better after death. 

It was a lot of fun to write this poem. Also not a lot of effort – which is absolutely an essential attribute of any work I do in college :)

Monday night: we went to Blithe Spirit, a play about a man haunted by the ghost of his first wife, to the immense displeasure of his second wife. It was great. I thought it portrayed the relationship between men and women very accurately. For instance, the second wife was furious about the whole ordeal, while the husband took on an injured, hopeful look when telling her that it was quite an interesting situation and they should make the most of it.

How many times, I ask you, has a woman deemed something profoundly wrong while the man is blissful and content with the situation? (Basically flat? Inside joke to family members.)

Internship on Tuesday, which was quite nice. Despite pushing at doors that needed pulling to open (and vice versa) it was actually a lot of fun. I was there for five hours (8am-1pm) and it felt like 20 minutes; the time flew by in a blur of adorably accented, uniformed children, aged five to six, who found me most interesting.

Teacher: “So we are soooo lucky. Miss C has come here from far away just to be here with us for the next five weeks-”

[Thinks to self: well, that’s not entirely true… there’s the shopping, and the tours. And the food, and the shopping. And the studying- wait, no let’s be serious here and omit that. Also, Chunky’s been enjoying himself immensely in London…]

“- and she’s come here from a very, very long way away. Can anyone guess where she is from? Has anyone heard her accent?”

[But I don’t have an accent, you all do! I wish I had an accent. Must work on that. Note to self: add ‘developing accent’ to to-do list.]

“She’s from Australia!” pipes up one of the miniature English people, the collar on his shirt uneven and poking his ear.

[I am? Where on earth did he get that? I can’t even attempt an Australian accent except when imitating the narrators on National Geographic.]

“No, not from Australia,” I say, enunciating my non-accented accent.

“AMERICA!” yell the other 29 students, with such enthusiasm it would appear they were from there themselves.

As enjoyable as the internship is (and I am having so much fun there despite the labyrinthian layout of the building), the children’s names are insanely diverse and complicated. At my last internship, there were 16 children in the class with names ranging from Alex to Katie to James. In this class, there are 30 children. There is one Sarah, but there is also Amour, Suheila, Azhar, Oumaamah, Jibril, and Abdirahim. I kid you not- all the names are like that. In my notebook, I’ve written how their names sound with hyphens to help with pronunciation. The teacher will say one of their names and I’ll jot down notes like “Pigtails, tendency to craw under tables” “glasses- looks like Harry Potter” and “the one always getting yelled at.” I feel awful that I don’t know all their names yet, but I’m only working 15 more days there. By the time I figure them all out- putting unfamiliar faces to names I haven’t even figured out how to pronounce- I’ll be leaving for America!

What is nice about the internship is that the teacher is giving me free reign. The building used to be two different buildings: a primary (elementary) school and also a nursery school. Now the building is combined, so they have toddlers as well as students all the way up to year six, which is like our fifth grade. I’m in year one, which is like kindergarten. The teacher said if I ever get too bored in her classroom (full of tiny English uniformed children who ask me if they can run to the loo or throw their tissue in the litter bin!), I’m welcome to go around to other classrooms- even the nursery! So tiny, stumbling English toddlers or talkative English kindergartners?

Too. Much. Cuteness.

Full walking tour of Bath on Wednesday: It was an audio tour of the Roman Baths, so you go around with a radio, cell phone look-a-like thing attached to your ear while entering buttons on signs to hear the history of whatever sight you’re currently looking at. First there was the introduction spiel:

“Welcome to Bath, an area with 2,000 years of history rooted in mystical goddesses and ancient waters” or something to that effect yada yada yada tune out tune out tune out- “for the childrens' tour, type in the numbers on the orange signs and allow your child to experience the wonders of the ancient Roman Baths through an interactive and entertaining tour, complete with fictional characters and games.”

Hmmm. Tune in, tune in, tune in.

I looked around furtively. My fellow classmates and professors were looking down at the baths with pensive stares while listening intently to their no-doubt educational and informative adult tour.

Making sure no one I knew was looking at me, I typed in the number on the closest orange sign with such stealth that I may have well been entering my pin number.

“Welcome! I’m Polonius from a few thousand years back and I’m one of the people in charge of taking care of the Roman Baths, a place to kick back and relax with hot water and good company. Come join me, and I’ll show you around! Do you see that model over there by the wall? Can you spot all the men in green tunics? They help keep this place clean for everyone. Enter the number of green tunics you see into your audio phone, and I’ll tell you if you’re right. And after that, I’ll introduce you to my good friend, Titus, and he’ll tell you all about the people who built this place by crushing and carving huge rocks!”

Best tour ever, I thought to myself, and made my way to the model of the baths so I could play I Spy with the men in the green tunics.

But the best best best part of the day happened before the tour of the baths. We had a few hours to kill before the tour, so Amanda and I went to the Jane Austen Museum (yes, yes they have one!!) which indulged all the different parts of me: the English major side of me, which devours everything book-related; the Pride and Prejudice fanatic side of me, which gravitates towards anything Mr. Darcy-related; and the romantic side of me, which adores all things love-related/tragic/containing period dresses.

And afterward, Amanda and I had tea. In the cutest little tearoom I have ever seen. We had crumpets with cream and jam, along with a special Jane Austen tea brew. And our table was UNDER A PICTURE OF MR. DARCY.

I told Amanda that this could only be made more perfect and cute if tiny kittens were rolling around with balls of yarn by the table legs.

The London Eye on Thursday night (tonight): If you haven’t seen the London Eye, it’s a Ferris Wheel roughly four miles high, which sways dangerously above the Thames River while its riders clutch desperately at its flimsy structure of loose screws and wires.

Okay, maybe not. But I have a fear of heights, people. Try to sympathize.

I first saw the London Eye last week. I waved carelessly at it and declared that it was the most frightening ride I'd ever seen and that I would never ride it in a million million years, not even if you paid me and that I was so glad I wasn't going to ride it and-

"But we are going on it," replied Tahn, looking surprised.

Pause. Blink. What?

"Next Thursday, I think," she said. "...you look worried. Everything okay?"

Flash-forward to tonight:

“I feel like I’m going to puke.”

“What did you have for dinner? Oily foods are most likely to come back up again.”

“Oh thank you, Sarah, that’s very encouraging.”

“What did you have?”

“A pita wrap with hummus, salad and olives.”

“Oh boy.”

“AHHHH. Who put this on the itinerary? Where are the Janes? I want to talk with them.”

“Monica, we’re still in line, calm yourself.”

[mutters to self] “I should have brought Chunky.”

Tahn appears. “So. How are we doing?” Cue encouraging smile and sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Sorry about what I said last night by the way.”

Sarah: “What’d you say?”

Me: “Oh she showed up in my room while I was complaining about having to get up at 6am four days in a row, and she was like ‘Well cheer up! We have the London Eye tomorrow!’ At which point I buried my head in my pillow and she said, ‘Oh… were you the one that was scared of heights?’”

Well, I didn’t throw up, or pass out, somehow, which was encouraging. It took far too long to make a full rotation though. And they didn’t stop the ride when you had to get on! The wheel just keeps going and you have to jump from the landing into the giant glass capsules while the whole thing slowly rotates. Someone in the group shouted “MIND THE GAP” when we all jumped across.

I still need to get that T-shirt.

Scotland this weekend, during which Sara and I will be touring Edinburgh, which you know, just happens to be THE PLACE WHERE JK ROWLING LIVES. No big deal, just saying. I’ll (God willing) be having coffee where she WROTE THE FIRST DRAFTS OF HARRY POTTER. ON NAPKINS.

Life goal complete.

And of course, pictures of this past week below!

 Travis, the seagull that Amanda and I fed most of our lunches to while narrating the whole event in Australian accents as though we were on Animal Planet.

 The Jane Austen tearoom :)

 Mr. Darcy, who joined us for tea!

 The most adorable tea table, complete with crumpets.

 The entrance to the Roman Baths, looking up, obviously.

 The Baths. I spy... tourists!

 Prettifulness at the Baths.

 Squinty eyes. It was sunny.

 God being awesome.

 More prettifulness. If you look closely, there are ladders on this building with angels climbing to heaven. The guy that built the place saw it in a dream and created it... Yes, I do occasionally listen to our tour guides.

 It really was beautiful in Bath.

 Pictures of Chunky upon request! Here he's wearing a Fez cap thing that Sara bought.

Chunky minus the Fez. 

 The Fez again! Plus this Dr. Whoo screwdriver thing that has no relevance to me but Sara's obsessed.

 We have potlucks every week, which are surprisingly good. Who knew college students could cook?

Right before The Eye. 

 Tahn and I right before the Eye.

 On the Eye. Proof I was there!

 "Monica, pretend to freak out, you know you are already!"

Flushed and trying not to pass out. It was rather frightening at times and I was one of the first people off. I'm glad I went though; I didn't want to chicken out.

All of us!

 Tahn and I. I feel like a giant next to her. She's like Chunky's height. 

I'll be without internet for the next few days while in Scotland because I'm not taking my laptop, so don't freak out if I don't respond to emails until Sunday night!

Love you all!!!

Hello Loved Ones!

Today is officially my eighth day in London. I’ll try to remember as much as I can from the past week and tell you about all my adventures. First off: a few lists!

Twelve things thought during the plane ride to London:

1. This plane ride will never end. I will die here in this seat at the age of 99 with a pair of headphones that I am sure will end up on a bill somewhere.

2. Gosh this woman next to me will not stop talking. I feel like I’m with Christina.

3. Oooh we have touch-screen monitors. That’s fantastic! I can turn on my overhead light without getting up. Must restrain the impulse to keep turning the light on and off during the flight.

4. Why is everyone around me playing Bejeweled? (a game available on the monitor that’s basically a puzzle-thing made up of jewels) What a ridiculous game, I’m going to sleep.

5. Can’t sleep.

6. Hmmm. Bejeweled isn’t so bad. It’s got pretty colors.

7. Darn it. The elderly woman across the aisle from me has tripled my Bejeweled score.

8. I hate Bejeweled.

9. I wish Chunky were here.

10. Oh thank God; we’re landing and I can get away from the talkative woman and get coffee.
11. Do they even sell coffee in London?
12. I hope the baristas have accents.

After waiting three hours for the bus with Henry (another student on the trip), we make it to our apartment. There are six of us to a flat that has three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, and a living area. There are I think 19 students in total plus three professors from VT (Jane W, Jane S, and Peter). The boys are all in one flat (there’s only six boys on the trip) and the girls are split up into the two flats. The professors have their own flats, naturally.

I love my flat! I’m in a room with Amanda and Sarah, two great girls who love Harry Potter and also Chunky. Chunky has become quite popular already. I’ve often walked into the living area to see one of my flatmates curled up with a cup of tea and a book with Chunky in their lap.

There’s also another Sarah, Tahn (rhymes with Sean), and Jennie (one of the other interns).

As great as my flatmates are, I must tell you about the evil washing machine. It claims to be able to dry clothes as well. Lies! There’s a setting for “cotton dry.” Well that looks perfect for me, I thought to myself the other night. I set the timer for 40 minutes and when I got back I realized that the innocuous and misleading label “cotton dry” was actually synonymous with “boil clothes until all the hot water in the flat has been used up, amateur.” Meep. Luckily my flatmates were understanding and the hot water came back on in the afternoon. But my poor clothes! I keep apologizing to them. Imagine expecting to get a gentle tumble dry and instead be boiled alive :/

In other news, the food here is quite interesting. The nutrition labels have the calories in kcals and kjoules. The former is basically the calories but I have no idea what kila joules are. I’m sure if I paid attention in Chemistry I would know; alas, I am an English major and did not. Anyway the kjoules are always a much higher number than the kilacalories. I drank a powerade zero at the airport and was looking in interest at the label only to almost drop it in shock.

Henry: What’s wrong?

Me: It says here I just drank 1200 kilajoules!

Henry: Huh. I guess you could always run to the apartments.

I’m been trying to branch out and eat new food. On our first night here (I had been up almost two days at this point) we went out to dinner where we all gorged ourselves just to make sure we didn’t fall asleep at the table and knock over the water glasses (and royally embarrass the Janes). I had this steak and mushroom thing that arrived in a toasted bread thing that obviously I can not explain articulately. Fish and chips is a big thing here, and I had a bite of Jennie’s fish and chips yesterday. It was okay, but I stuck with my spicy veggie burger. There’s this great little sweet shop that sells all these really British treats. I got Knicker Boxers, which were marshmallows shaped like ice cream cones and also this toffee thing that was meant to be a gift for Greg but my flatmates and I have already eaten half of it. Whoops. Never buy a food gift five weeks in advance.

I love how I’ve been in London a week and the first things I mention are the washing machine and food. On to the tours and sites and culture!

So I got here at 6am last Sunday, got to the flat around 1pm, unpacked and greeted everyone, fell asleep on the couch on my stomach with Chunky as a pillow for an hour, and then took the tube for dinner. Quite an experience. The tube is the subway, and the British announcer is always telling you to “MIND THE GAP” when getting on and off the tube. Three of our classmates from VT bought T-shirts that say MIND THE GAP with the tube symbol in the background. I really, really want one.

So after dinner, we all went back and fell into a dead sleep. The Janes had plans for us in the morning to get groceries and everything but we just slept in. Oh how reliable college students are. Then we had a 2pm walking tour of central London, which started at The Monument, which is a monument to the Great Fire of Britain. It started because some baker forgot to turn off his ovens and he happened to live next door to a guy (“bloke”) who stored gunpowder. Whoops. Our tour guide was excellent, and he actually wrote a book, which a few of us (including myself) bought for 10 pounds. Although he was wrong about one thing. He took us down a street and told us it was Diagon Alley. BUT IT WASN’T. It was used for come close ups of Ollivander’s wand shop but not for the wide shots. I thought it wasn’t right because when I looked down it I thought the shops curved at a different angle from the Diagon Alley in the movie. I feel lied to :(

That night, a few of the girls went out to a club, but that’s not really my scene. Jennie, Amanda and Sarah stayed back too, so we went to Tesco (local supermarket), bought some food and wine and made a very Italian dinner complete with pasta, garlic bread, and a much-used container of balsamic vinegar. So proud, so proud.

We had an orientation class the next day, which involved warning us against everything from pick pocketing to terrorist attacks.

“Well the terrorist threat is SEVERE… anyone know what that means? It means that the possibility of a terrorist attack if HIGHLY LIKELY… [pause while we all stare at him wide-eyed] But it really shouldn’t affect your stay in London all that much. And really, what can you do about a terrorist attack? [another pause while we all exchange raised-eyebrow glances with each other] Nothing, exactly! So… on to something you can prevent: pickpocketing! [Me, to Sara next to me: “didn’t he start out by saying how safe London is?”]

But I haven’t had any problems with safety or anything like that, so no one worry! The worst experience I had was with that washing machine.

After class, we saw a play called The Cherry Orchard. So depressing, but what else did I expect from a Russian play by Chekhov? Luckily there was ice cream at intermission.

That was Tuesday. Wednesday was the result of the Janes trying to stuff as much walking into a day as physically possible: Wake up at eight, downstairs before nine, bus (“coach”) tour for three hours (read: scrunch up into a comfortable position and let the tour guide’s English accent lull me to sleep for an hour or so). I did have to wake up for bit to see Buckingham Palace, which was AWESOME. The Queen was having a garden party so we saw shiny cars pull up and women with extravagant hats get out.

Jennie: I want to go!

Me: I’m sure our invitations just got lost in the mail.

Jennie: I just want to touch their hats. Can you imagine the material?

Me: You are such a Theater major.

After the coach tour, we stopped for lunch at St Paul’s, followed by a tour of St Paul’s, which was just amazing. Except the catacombs; there was just no way you couldn’t walk over the graves and that was slightly creepy. Everyone was shifting and shuffling around, trying not to step on anyone too important.

So after walking around St Paul’s for two hours, we went straight to Parliament. The Janes were so excited about it! And we were grumbling the whole time. Because we can’t sit in Parliament since we’re not Lords or Commons or whatever, so they showed us around the whole place, had us stand next to the benches we couldn’t sit on, and talked endlessly about government.

No time to rest after that, because we had a play at The Globe: All’s Well That Ends Well. Great play, and we all loved it. But we had to stand. On concrete. For three hours. I kept going outside to sit on the benches, apologize to my poor feet, and wonder if they were going to just detach themselves from my legs and walk/limp haughtily away.

On the way back to the tube, everyone was gushing about the play and we ended up discussing the versatility of Shakespeare versus the inflexibility of Chekovian tragedy. I love being around English majors.

British Museum tour the next morning. Agony. My feet still hurt from the day before and looking at mummified corpses just before lunchtime didn’t help.

Tour guide: “And this one here is called Ginger. Anyone know why? Yes, his hair! Still preserved after all these years. So let’s discuss why his skin hasn’t decomposed yet. Any ideas?”

Also, our tour guide made some mistakes. While looking a the Greek Freezes, I read the caption below that mentioned how the victims were being led to be sacrificed, which explained all the bulls.

“So the bulls were sacrificed?” I asked

“What?”

“The bulls.” I pointed to the sign. “It calls them victims.”

“Oh.” She squinted at the writing. “Hmm… yes, I suppose they were.”

Jennie: [to me] “She got the sun-god wrong too. It was Apollo, not Helios. He just drove the chariot.”

We gave our feet a break after the tour, and got this amazing chicken hummus with pita bread and sat outside for a few hours before class. What a great time. Just chatting and eating and shooing away hopeful-looking pigeons. Since it was our first free night, you would think we’d all dress up and go out. But we all fell asleep- crashed- more like, and I actually fell asleep on the couch with Chunky again and Jennie had to drag me to my bed at around midnight.

Friday: Sara, Amanda and I went on a mission to find the REAL Diagon Alley. Well, we didn’t. We did find a great bookstore though, and we each bought a large stack of books. We were like kids in a candy store, giddy and running around because we were surrounded by books and to an English major that’s the best place to be. Speaking of candy stores, there was one on that street! And a Costa (their version of Starbucks). Hands down my favorite place in London so far. Friday night, Sara and Amanda and I went to this Armenian place near our flat and had tea and this spicy pita thing that was amazing but I can’t pronounce or spell the name. It was very authentically foreign, not touristy at all and a lot of fun.

Slept in on Saturday (thank God) and got dinner with Sarah, Amanda, and Jennie at his pub place near the theater we were going to that night. The play was AMAZING BEYOND BELIEF, and not just because of the ice cream at intermission, although that was great too. The play was Much Ado About Nothing, and it wasn’t a play that everyone had to go to; we bought the tickets ourselves and just went as a small group. It starred David Tennant and Catherine Tate and we had to stand the whole time but I didn’t even care. It was SO FUNNY. I was laughing so hard I was doubled over at some points, and I completely forgot I was even standing. Tennant is basically a Scottish Jim Carrey and Tate was just as hilarious. They got a standing ovation at the end and we plan on the seeing the play again before we leave. Afterward, we even got to see them in person, as they went outside to sign autographs, and we got to spot the other actors quickly slipping out a side door as well. It was surreal seeing them all up-close after seeing them perform on a famous stage.

It’s surreal being here in general. This past week has flown by, yet I feel as if I’ve been here quite a long time. I’m having such a great time and am loving this London life, so to speak. I’ll update sometime in the next week. I start my internship at a local primary (elementary) school on Tuesday, so I’m sure I’ll have lots to write about. How I plan on disciplining adorable, tiny, British children in any way, I have no idea.

Love you all!

Oh, and pictures are below:

Grocery shopping for the first time. Tahn bought an adorable little container of milk.

The Monument. It's really tall.

 Sign about The Monument

The River Thames and the Tower Bridge. The ship is an old WWII ship and is now a floating museum.

 I just liked the name of the street :)

The fake Diagon Alley :(

 Statue of a horse, just because!

This is by an art gallery, and the black line is part of a large circle that used to be a gladiator area. It was pretty cool to stand in the middle of it. 

This was a picture of an overhang by a 9/11 monument to those UK citizens who died that day. 

 God being awesome during the coach tour.

Me at Buckingham Palace!

Beautiful horses driving by the bus :)

 This picture wouldn't stay rotated, oh well. Me trying to break into the Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter reference!).

 We didn't eat here but I liked the sign :)