Sometimes You Just Need A Little Spice In Your Life:

This weekend I got to play tour guide, innkeeper and London local for Alex Spice, college roommate and potential life partner, who journeyed from Paris to spend a weekend with me! Despite the unfortunate weather conditions, either pouring rain or permanently overcast skies, we trekked and tubed all over the city, stopping only for pictures and food!

As soon as she arrived we were on the move! After quickly dropping her bags off at my flat, and showing off my digs we headed immediately over to Harrods. Alex has never been to London so I thought Harrods would be a good introduction to British hospitality, culture and the Pound. We saw a casual pair of £ 350 blue jeans- totally steal! That seemed like our cue to leave and we headed back to my flat- it was 6:00 at this point. After a tough day of shopping I always relax with a large, traditional English Meal- Indian food! We went to my favorite curry place around the corner from my flat. I warned her that the curry stains on the tablecloths and the fact that the restaurant looks like a closet only enhances the food quality and ambience…. Hmm, I know, I know. It is disgusting but it is seriously the best! We gorged ourselves. It was marvelous. Spice and I share the special bond of loving food more than… there is nothing that compares. But it was fine because we danced it all away at WalkAbout, a European version of the Jug. Tired and happy we came back home to my twin bed and went right to sleep. In the morning we were both alarmed at how comfortable we were...

After a full English Breakfast (why am I not fat????) we headed over to the Tower Of London for a day of tourist fun! It was a blast! I love being a tourist “in my own city” and I was so proud to show off all of my newly acquired knowledge of London- for example: crossing the street is hard, a pound can also be called a quid and if you get a "take away coffee" you can, under no circumstances, consume it on the premise. The Tower of London is like a castle playground. We were running around through different towers, checking out torture galleries, crown jewels and the astounding numbers of Asian tourists (it was impressive). After the tower we had a romantic stroll down the Thames River. I feel bad- I think I walked Spice out. I was like a camp counselor on steroids- I made her see and do everything. We definitely earned our Ben’s Cookies that we ate later in Covent Garden. For those of you not in the know- Ben’s Cookies are magical and warm and I think visiting the cookie stand is way more important then visiting, say, The Cabinet War Rooms.

Having Spice here was great. I love London more than anything but you don’t realize how much you miss and appreciate home until you’re reminded of it. Even though we are in Europe things were exactly the same between us and that was refreshing. Our conversations included funny anecdotes from home and stories from college and it just made me feel connected to something. Even though I can now navigate London and not get as painfully lost, I’m still just a visitor but having a friend from home visit me, somehow, in my mind, validated my place here. It made London feel a little bit more my own because it was my city to show off and my responsibility to show her a good time. done done and done.

The Anniversary Special

Two days ago marks my one-month anniversary living in London! This month passed very quickly and despite my most valiant efforts to see that blasted glass half full- it’s not working! (Yes, this is the cliché and obvious metaphor for my stay here) Anyways, this is the “anniversary special” post so it deserves a special and overly used, trite line!

Right.

Last night I saw the Sophocles’ play, “Antigone” at the Barbican Theater. Even though I now consider myself a seasoned theater attendee, nothing, I repeat nothing, could have prepared me for what I saw. There was no space between the stage where the actors were “acting” and the audience. I knew I was in trouble when I saw this- I’m prone to the giggles. And oh, do I know myself well because at random points throughout the play the ensemble broke out into little dances and songs to mimic an ancient Greek chorus. And I conveniently broke out into laughter while they did this. Mind you, it wasn’t rude or loud laughter, just a quiet, internal laugh that I shared with myself. I felt so bad for these people! Can you imagine?! Break through role at the Barbican… minstrel who does an Irish jig while blowing the shofar? It was hysterical. They were wearing togas and blowing rams horns. I see a long run for this one. Not. Interesting play….

Things have been pretty much status quo over here. Class, walking around, frozen dinner, etc. In an effort to really shake things up here are the trips that I’m going on:

1. Prague, Budapest & Vienna
2. Paris
3. Stratford/Warwick & Oxford
4. Lucerne, Switzerland
5. Tuscany

ps- these pictures arre kinda random. Little A-Dam & L town.

Man, We couldn’t have had shittier digs…

Let me preface this post by saying I am alive, well and back home in London. Despite the horrifying events that happened to our group of seven, we all survived the weekend, so please- no sympathy. Before I set a completely negative tone, I want to make it clear that with the smallest bit of hindsight, Amsterdam was one of the funniest, scariest and most ridiculous weekends of my life. That being said, I believe that the law of entropy was the only constant in our entire weekend. Onwards.


Thursday 9/20/2007. Heathrow→ Schipol. Delayed several hours.

Even though it’s only a 40-minute flight from Heathrow Airport, we are delayed so long that we arrive in Amsterdam after midnight. Not brave enough to attempt the trains so late at night, we hop into a cab that gets very lost trying to find the “hotel” cough hostel. I’m not gonna lie, I almost wish we hadn’t found the hostel and had to conveniently crash at the “plush and ritzy” Ramada Inn, down the block. Our hostel, the Hotel Orfeo, is actually the shittiest place in the entire world. Noah described it well- a Dr. Seuss house whose owner became a meth addict. It was a narrow house with an 8 floor walk up (yes, we were on the 8th floor). The man who ran the hostel was this dirty, unshaven Dutch man- overall it set the tone nicely. After we all paid... cash only (classy joint, eh?) we stepped outside to make fun of our hostel and just laughed about how funny it was going to be sleeping in this “den of iniquity” when, I kid you not, the creepiest man in the entire world approached our circle. I am certain I jumped and I know a few of the boys did too. This guy looks like Van Gogh’s crazy younger brother. Huge orange beard and chest length matted orange hair- the creepiest dude alive. Caveat, I will probably overuse the word “creepy” in the next sentences but it really is the only adjective to describe this man. Anyways, the man proceeds to ask us all our names. With trepidation, we go around and introduce ourselves. He manages to scoff or make some biting remark at all of our names so then Mel pipes up and asks what his is. With this air of importance, he tells us that his name is Nameless. Being immature we joke around and say how happy we are to meet Mr. Less. Unfortunately he doesn’t find this funny. He tells us that he is an outdoor educator from Texas, and gives us this sob story about how he actually is staying in this hostel but he left his key at a café that had already closed for the evening. Creeped out, we say auir voir to Mr. Less and run into our “hostel” but snag in the plan- Nameless follows us in! We grab the “night guard” who informs us not only is Nameless a guest at this crap hole, he is staying in our room! This blog is already getting long so abridged version: Nameless becomes the sole topic of conversation for the next few days. Example, do you think Nameless is here? What kind of childhood did Nameless have? What kind of doodie ball calls himself Nameless? Oh wait, is Nameless going to kill us in our sleep? Turns out he was just a creepy dude named LESLIE. Yes, we checked the hotel register. Leslie, in all of his creepy glory was just the icing on the Hotel Orfeo experience.

Our three day jaunt in Amsterdam is a blur of fantastic Dutch Pancakes (we would all split sweet and savory- they have cheese and mushroom pancakes here! Magical!), Dutch pastries, Van Gogh Museum, the Reijks Museum and trying to go to Ann Frank’s house twice but due to Yom Kippur and a 2.5 hour line not making it into her annex. And of course, the red light district. The RLD, now a tourist destination, felt like "It’s A Small World", the Disney ride, for very, very bad people. You walk up and down the different windows and the ladies wave at you. We were all laughing at how Euro Trashy it was! Despite wanting to gouge my eyes out after walking through the RLD, as with the rest of our trip, we all had the most fun whenever something was weird and out of the ordinary.

Amsterdam is a really fun city to explore but the group consensus was that we pretty much had the city down in about eight hours. But, we also walked everywhere! Canal to canal, pancake house to pancake house we ended up walking the entire city. Echausted,we were all SO excited to return to London and leave the grossness of our hostel behind. Brendan, randomly in the middle of dinner announced that we had some “shitty ass digs” I dont think I have ever laughed so hard I mean the kind of laughing that brings on the tears. In fact, we all agreed that sleeping on a park bench would have been cleaner and more comfortable. That being said, I wouldn’t have wanted to stay anywhere else. Amsterdam was absurd and we all had the best time just goofing around the city and scheming up stories about our new friend, Leslie, or Mr. Nameless.

ps- we went to The Decemberists Concert in Amsterdam. It was SO MUCH FUN. The reason we went to Amsterdam this weekend was to see them in concert. It was at a small venue, the Paradiso, and they were great. amen.

Psychoanalytically Yours- B

My sincerest apologies for being slightly absent for these past three days… but in my defense, I only feel the need to blog when something really unique happens. I know I’m jaded (seeing as I’ve been in London almost a month now) but I don’t think walking around Buckingham Palace, St. James’ park or relaxing in Trafalgar Square necessarily merits a posting. However, I guess I can entertain you, mere Americans, with some interesting tidbits from my travels.

Today is the first overcast, slightly rainy day we’ve had and strangely, I couldn’t be happier! It has been so beautiful and warm here that I feel guilty staying inside so I’ve been walking everywhere and trying to take in as many sights as possible. But thanks to the weather- I now have an excuse to relax at home, catch up on my blogs, homework and emails.

Looking back on my walks around the city, it is so crazy that walking past a palace doesn’t faze me anymore! By no means am I alluding to the fact that I don’t appreciate seeing them, they just feel part of my routine. Sometimes I have to remind myself how weird it is that I’m actually in London. I’ve been looking forward to and planning to go abroad for so long that now that I’m actually here it feels very surreal. On my way to get groceries I pass buildings built before America became a country. The amount of history here is absurd. You can’t walk down a street without passing some sort of historical landmark, building or monument.

Yesterday, sitting on the steps of Trafalgar Square, trying to take in the city around me, I became anxious about how quickly my time here is passing. I’m already ¼ of the way done with my stay and I don’t know where it has all gone. There is still so much I want to do and I’m worried I can’t fit it all in. I know it is impossible to even attempt, so my goal is just to do and appreciate as much as I can everyday. Cheesy, yes, but living in London has really changed my perspective regarding a lot of things. I’m so grateful to be here and so in love with British culture that I cant help but worry about my own expiration date here. I know I’m leaving in three months and that concept, for me, is scarier than my experience jammed under that Indian man’s armpit in the tube. That’s the whole point! When I’m home the crazy adventures will stop, new stories to share or places to discover will most likely die out as well.

Anyways, tomorrow I’m leaving for Amsterdam. I will be back Sunday afternoon- expect a full write up on Van Gough paintings, delicious pancakes, wooden shoes and disgusting hostel experiences.

ps- toblerone fruit and nut is the nectar of the gods. The bus isnt so random now... is it?

‘Scuse me while I go dump in the garden….

Yesterday our class went on an overnight trip to Bath, a small spa town three hours outside of London and then to Stonehenge. Bath is an amazing town full of old houses, abbeys and castles built in the 1700’s. What really makes Bath unique though, is its hot springs. The Romans originally built structures there as a spa town and then decades after the Romans left England, the British started utilizing the hot springs too. We had a guided tour of the city by an old man who looked like he was around when the Romans were still dippin’ in the hot springs. We were all expecting this horribly boring, dry tour of the city but on the contrary- he was very lively and hysterically funny! During our two hour walking tour he pointed out various buildings that are important to Bath’s history. After each building we passed he asked us if we had any questions- we never did… except for one structure. Midway through the tour we passed a beautiful garden and our guide explained that ladies in the 1700’s used it as an “excretion ground”. I’m pretty sure all of our jaws dropped but then the questions started flying. Was there toilet paper? Did the doodie just sit there? Did they doodie while walking? Could people see them doodie? Was it socialy acceptable to doodie in public? Etc. I mean, we are all twenty and supposedly bright people but we couldn’t stop cracking up. I think we stayed in front of the doodie garden for 5 minuets pelting our guide with questions. At the end of the tour, our guide suggested that we take advantage of out the newly built spa in the center of the city. The spa uses the water that comes up from the ground but it fills into a modern looking swimming pool. For only £12 you can use their pools, steam rooms and aromatherapy chambers and float around in the water that they claim has over 43 minerals in it. We were all so excited to jump right into the bubbling pools but… none of us had bathing suits! Crisis averted though…. There was a discount department store around the corner where we all picked out ridiculous suits for under £5! In the end, only Noah, Justin, Brendan, the Professor/ his fiancé and I decided to use it- it was like our own private spa! So much fun. Post dip, we went to Sally Lunn’s Buns, a very famous bun bakeshop, for some afternoon tea. Just livin’ the dream.

We woke up early the next morning to go to Stonehenge. I would love to say it was fantastic… but the aura of seeing the Neolithic rocks was pretty much ruined by the hoards of tourists swarming the place. It felt sort of like a Disney World for rocks and geology. It was still cool to see it...

That’s your boyfriend

Yesterday, on my way to celebrate the New Year (yes, I know I made fun of the Ethiopians yesterday… but at least we’re ahead and not behind) I encountered horrible rush hour traffic on the Tube. Dressed in my good clothing (aka not jeans and a tee shirt) I found myself, rather unfortunately, wedged under an Indian man’s armpit. Happy New Year to me. When I arrived at the Kantor’s house I was extremely frazzled from the journey but in true British fashion they offered me a cup of tea and I settled right in and forgot the horrible trip over. The family couldn’t have been more welcoming and fun. We had dinner at their friend’s house with about thirty other people. The dinner was rather strange- it was all cold foods but the company was a ton of fun. They were all so interested to hear about my studies in London and if I found adapting to life here challenging. But what they really wanted to talk about was my “New York accent”… I didn’t realize I had a strong one. Anyways, it was nice to have a place to go for the holidays.

Today we went to a really cool museum, the Sir John Soane House. It was one man’s collection that he later donated to the state. The house was crammed with shit. Things were hanging on the walls, the floors and covering every possible surface. It was honestly very overwhelming. Being the true scholar that I am, my friends and I played the “that’s your boyfriend game” while touring all of his collections. Essentially the game is played as followed: find a ridiculous sculpture, drawing, or artifact and then, for example, quietly whisper to a friend… hey, see that urn with the naked man skinning a goat… “THAT’S YOUR BOYFRIEND!”. Needless to say, I was entertained for hours.

Happy Ethiopian Millennium?

Today was fantastic. We had a walking tour of Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, Parliament and some other random churches (praise be). Then, a few hours later it was off to the theater! Breaking from the trend, tonight’s show was amazing! It was an adaptation of an old Hitchcock movie, “39 Steps”. It was very cool because instead of a scary play they made it into a comedy. We were all cracking up. Loved every minute… which is rare for me to say because I’m slightly judgmental (really?). Then as we were leaving the theater we heard really loud singing and intense street noises. Curious, we went to check it out and lo and behold it was an Ethiopian party right in Trafalgar Square! They were celebrating the millennium… I felt really bad for them because I think nobody told them that they are seven years late.

Show Me the Gelato

During class today I got really excited to start reading the next novel on the syllabus and planned on starting it as soon as I got back to my flat. This sense of motivation, however, was fleeting and on the way back I changed my plans entirely. I’m attributing this unscholarly attitude to London’s beautiful weather….I don’t understand the bad rep for rainy, overcast days- today was another magnificent day. I mean really perfect. So, in compliance with my usual “laidback” work ethic, I thought it would be best to walk around the city instead of read. And I promptly left my book-filled flat and headed out. About an hour into wandering around Hyde Park I decided the hell with nature—bring on the shopping. And I did just that. Enter Harrods. I must admit, I agree with their horribly cheesy slogan, “At Harrods, truly anything is possible”. This is true on several levels- namely it is possible to buy an £11 ice cream sundae. For those of you who cannot do the conversion- that is $22 dollars. I was angry. How dare they charge such an exorbitant amount for ice, sugar and cream with the occasional splash of mint, strawberry or pistachio! I bitterly walked past the gelato stand that seemed to reinforce the negative image that the British economy presents. Yet as I walked past, the gelato man called out to me, “Come, try! Come- I give you samples!” Well, that was music to my ears! I love samples! Giving him my prize winning, straight toothed, American smile, I asked him which one he liked. He suggested the tiramisu and then deftly spooned up a taste. It was heavenly. I gushed. Enthused by my praise, he offered me another sample. Again I accepted. With one swoop of the wrist he produced a sample of chocolate biscuit. It was even better! My smile got even wider. As a bonafide foodie I give off an aura of appreciation whenever I try something magical and I do believe he recognized that in me. The samples continued. After I had sampled pistachio, tiramisu, raspberry, chocolate biscuit, heath, Carmel and banana I became a little embarrassed. It suddenly dawned on me that I had been in front of the gelato stand for over ten minuets chatting up this man and I hadn’t purchased anything. It was time to leave. I thanked him profusely for his generosity and headed back into the land of over overpriced merchandise. Here’s lookin’ at you, Gelato man.

Ps-Unfortunately, everything in this blog is 100% true.

The Bangladeshi Messy? The Curry Two-Step?

Two nights ago we saw Shakespeare’s “Love’s Labor’s Lost” preformed at the Globe Theater. Our professor, trying to give us a realistic portrayal of the Shakespearean era, bought us all standing room tickets. I know, seeing Shakespeare is horrible enough but to see it standing for three hours with nothing to lean on is actually excruciating. My body went numb after the first hour and I think my classmates felt the same. We all left (including the professor) at intermission. More like “Friday Night’s Lost”- pun intended.

Moving on.

This morning we woke up very early and headed over to the Brick Lane Market. Brick Lane, also known as “Bangla Town”, seems to be in a time capsule. Walking down the cobble stone streets with salespeople calling out to buy their goods seems so 1800’s! I loved it. Granted, most of the people were selling absolute trash- it was still such an experience taking it all in. People were yelling out to their friends/ family in various languages and even the street signs were written in Hindi. Now I can check India off my places to see. One section of Brick Lane is all Indian restaurants. The owners stand outside of their respective restaurants and pretty much heckle customers to come inside. We ended up getting too overwhelmed and chose the one my guidebook suggested. It was delicious. Too delicious. I ate enough food to feed an Indian family for about 5 weeks. I don’t know what was wrong with us- we were complaining how full we were and how we couldn’t eat one more bite yet the Nan kept being passed and the curry was flowin’. On the bus ride home, stuffed to the point of nausea, we thought it would be really cute to make up names for what happens to people who overeat… need I say more about the title?

AFTER the binge, we went to the Australian dance party in Shepard’s Bush. The entire point of the party is to dress in ridiculous clothing and listen to the live bands play. It was excellent. Noah, John, Katy and I ended up hanging outside of the park for a while enjoying the beautiful weather. On the way back from the dance party the man next to me on the tube was brushing his teeth. Normal. It was a very full day- in all senses of the word! Ha ha.

And then we fell down the rabbit hole….

Exhausted from a night of awkward, white-girl dancing the night before, none of us were in the mood to really “party” tonight. We heard that Shoreditch, an area a mile north of us, was really cool and filled with younger people. We saw a “chill” looking pub, The Electric Light Show, and decided to settle in there for the evening. For those of you who know the NYC bar scene- it looked exactly like the Dove. We were all really excited, there were comfortable chairs, cool looking people and soft music playing in the background. Overall, it felt like a pretty classy, laidback scene. Noah, midway through the night, had to go to the bathroom so he wandered downstairs. About two minutes later he came running over to our table and said that we had to immediately come downstairs- no questions asked. We followed him and as soon as I hit the bottom step I completely understood Alice in Wonderland when she fell down the rabbit hole and entered the alternate universe. Downstairs, there was a dance floor that lit up with colored lights and a band/dj playing live techno with about fifty people jumping around on the electric floor. I can’t really put into words what it felt like walking down the stairs from the quiet pub and into this thumping, brightly colored scenester world. Again, shamelessly we hopped onto the illuminated dance floor and rocked out to the techno- despite the fact that we weren’t all wearing skinny jeans, ripped tee shirts, and jazzed up thrift store clothing with Marc Jacobs accessories (that’s what they all were wearing). We were expecting to have this low-key night and instead we experienced the underground world of the London cool kids. That’s the beauty of living in any city- especially London…

Crypt Cookies

Today our class had a walking tour of St. Paul’s Cathedral, which was unbelievably cool. Our professor is the head archeologist for the church so we got a private tour of the crypts, vaults and storage rooms in the attic. We climbed a really steep spiral staircase that lead to a Birdseye view of the entire cathedral. I mean, the view was spectacular but my knees started to get a little wobbly from the height. After our professor lectured us on the various elements of the church, nave, artwork, architecture, etc he let us wander around alone to “really get a feel for the church”. As I was wandering, trying to get a feel amongst the paintings of Jesus, I smelled something magical. At first I was ecstatic- the scent of freshly baked cookies wafted into my nostrils but then I was troubled for several reasons. One: am I going insane because I smell delicious cookies? Two: if the cookies are not a hallucination why the hell is a really famous and well-respected church baking cookies? So, I decided I wasn’t crazy and I followed my nose with futile hopes that it would lead me to the doughy goodness. Praise be! Miracles do happen! I wound up right in front of the Crypt Café! I kid you not. There is a Crypt Café. SO while my classmates tried to find god I found myself happily munching away on a freshly baked brownie and sipping a tall glass of milk. I love churches.

Anyways, here are some pictures from the walking trip and outings last night. I’m shocked! I didn’t know most of the kids before the trip but now we all go out in one big group. Gotta love Camp Colgate.

Devoid of cultural appreciation, horrible case of ADD or simply bad theater?

I just came home from possibly the most excruciatingly long and boring three hours of my life. My theater class, which goes to a play once a week, just saw Joan of Arc at the National Theater Complex. If all of the plays we go to are as dull as the one I just came back from I may throw myself into the Thames. First of all it was a three-hour play. Second of all there was no scenery and chairs were the only props. So, if you find yourself in London I would steer clear of this one. I mean really Joan…if you play with fire you gonna get burned.

With the tube still not running the streets were pretty packed today. We had to walk two miles to the theater but it was a beautiful route over the Thames with a fantastic view of Big Ben and Parliament. Pretty much the only worthwhile part of the evening.

ps- this is mel and katy wishing we were seeing we willl rock you.

Notes From Above the Underground

It’s a good thing I really like walking because tonight the underground workers went on strike. Thankfully, all of my classes are within walking distance from my flat but I’m sure the rush hour traffic tomorrow is going to be a nightmare.

These past few days have been really relaxed. I visited two fantastic museums (The Courtauld and the British Museum) and have been doing a lot of homework at this great outdoor pub, the Queen’s Larder. I order a pot of tea, get into my favorite, slightly tattered green sofa and people watch… I mean read for class. Anyways, it’s so interesting to me how alcohol is such a dominating factor in English culture. Regardless of the time, I will always see people sitting and drinking a pint. In my only other experience living in a city, New York, day drinking is pretty much looked down upon. However, in London, it is a social norm and a vehicle that seems to bring people together. While I personally abstain from the noonday pint (hi M & D!) I feel very foreign doing so. I was apprehensive about studying in London because I was worried it wouldn’t feel “foreign enough” or be challenging enough (no language barrier & modern city) but the cultural drinking, as a microcosm of British culture, reminds me daily that I am very far from home. Walking home to my flat, with mail in one hand and bags of groceries in the other, it will hit me—I’m living in London. I will sort of smile to myself and let it sink in just how comical it is that I’m living in London! I don’t really know why it’s so funny to me- but it just seems ridiculous that I’m capable of staking out a small existence here.

Sorry for the introspective ramblings- I promise more fun stories from Walkabout, my nightclub of choice, to come!!