Thank you and goodnight...

Soon I will no longer have use for a map. Maps are euphemisms, clean, clear, self-explanatory substitutes for all the mess and mayhem, the clutter and ambivalence and blurring and intermeshing eft and warp of the real places they purport to describe. They are fake documents, pathetic simplifications and falsifications. They’re no longer necessary since I have created a new London, not one made out of stone and brick, tarmac and concrete, but a London created out of memory, imagination and shoe leather. I have created it. I have made my dreams come true. -- Bleeding London

Everybody…

Sadly, this is going to be the last blog post of my London study abroad trip. I am now entering into finals month so I probably won’t have any spare time to be updating and I’m sure y’all wont want to hear about my experiences in the Library. British libraries are pretty awesome though…

So:
Thank you so much for following me as I got to know and love London. From getting lost after buying groceries two blocks away from my flat to inevitably leading friends and family confidently through the city, I’ve consistently been excited to come back and share all of my stories. This blog has been more than a vehicle for me to stay in touch from “across the pond” --it has become a way for me to include you in my everyday life. You were just as a part of the Caribbean day parades, Ethiopian New years, pub-crawls and inter-European vacations as I was and I thank you for that. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that my blog would be so widely circulated and taken seriously. Honestly, it has been such a source of pride for me and I cannot thank you all enough. As soon as something exciting or funny happened my first reaction was “YES! I have new material for the blog!”

It feels wrong to say something like “Wow time’s flied…” because while it’s gone by quickly, I’ve also learned a lot. I’ve become more independent... confidant to do things on my own. I’ve had dinner by myself, gone on solo explorations around London and traveled to foreign countries. Despite my newly discovered independence, I’ve also come to appreciate the importance of friends and family even more. In these past few months there have been times when I’ve craved company an ocean away from me, which really just reminds me how lucky I am to be excited about going home to such an amazing group of people.

It’s strange that I’m talking about “going home” already because I’ve tried so hard to make London my home. I feel like I’m just beginning to establish myself in this city and I finally have my routine places… my grocery store, Starbucks, flat on12 Bedford Place... etc and it feels all wrong that I have to begin thinking about saying goodbye.


I loved having you here with me and I hope that you have gotten the same amount of pleasure reading my blog as I have had writing it.

Swiss Miss, The Alps Adventure

I guess my love of “wingin’ it” and disinterest in planning things to completion could possibly be a euphemism for an “adventurous spirit”. When I landed in Zurich, chock full of “adventurousness”, I had no idea how to get to Lucerne --my final destination. I knew that trains went to Lucerne but that was about it. Seeing this as a quest, I envisioned myself strutting off the plane, hopping onto my clearly marked train and poof- I’m in Lucerne! Unfortunately, that plan went out the window when I walked into the train station at 11:00 PM and there were no staff members who could help me figure out where to go, how to buy a ticket and tell me which platform to get on. Oh yeah, and to make matters worse- all the signs are in German! Starting to panic and hearing my parents’ voices in my head reprimanding me for not thinking this one out, I decided to rely on my instinct. I instantly scanned the station looking for well-dressed people (don’t judge me…it usually works) and found a man in a nice suit. Well, this man turned out to actually be a saint because he helped me buy the ticket, got me on the train and then wrote out where I needed to transfer. As a blanket statement, Swiss people are amazing. I lucked out big time because somehow, after an entire day of traveling, I ended up in Lucerne… not planning can be fun too!


After a delicious breakfast, compliments of the Hotel Schiller, Britt, Nina and I decided to go out exploring. Our concierge gave us very detailed directions how to get there but after walking for a half hour we found ourselves in the middle of an industrial park that was pretty much the ugliest place ever. Overall, it was pretty similar to New Jersey. We popped into an office building to ask for directions and, ironically, we were relieved to hear that our concierge sent us the opposite way from town and that we didn’t elect to travel to ugly-ville. After re-orienting ourselves, we explored town for the rest of the day. It was phenomenal. It’s this quaint, old town that is dwarfed by the Alps. The views are sensational. I wish I could verbalize what it felt like to be looking up at the Alps from a covered bridge built in the 1600’s but really there are no words. Britt put it really well- she came away from the trip saying that the world is meant to be seen. And it really is. Switzerland is by far the most beautiful place I have ever been. Mountains, green grass and glacier lakes- it really can’t get any better. After exploring by foot for a while we decided to take a boat tour around Lake Lucerne where we relaxed in the sun and took pictures of each other and the sights about every other minute. After the boat, Nina went back and then Britt and I spent the rest of the day getting lost in the old village. It was physically exhausting but the only way to really see a city.


Mt. Titles, pronounced the way it's spelled, is in Engleberg, a sleepy little Swiss town. We planned on going to Mt. Titles because that’s where all the snow sports are- sledding, skiing, etc but unfortunately, when we got there the mountain was closed due to rough weather conditions. We were bummed but it didn’t even matter because getting to Engleberg was quite the adventure. We had to take a train that turned into a gondola- how fun! We were literally gliding through the Alps in our magical train car- find me something cooler than that. Ok, wait, I just did. There was NOTHING to do in Engleberg. Seriously nothing… everything was closed because it wasn’t ski season yet, so the only thing that was open was the cheese factory that was inside of a monastery. We were expecting a HUGE factory… instead it was one man standing over, literally, a pail of milk. We were cracking up!!! The factory doubled as a restaurant so we got to eat delicious fondue after!

I’m having a tough time with this blog because I cannot describe how it felt to be walking through such natural beauty. Britt and Nina were awesome- it was so refreshing to travel with people who are curious and anxious to explore (Spice we missed you though!!!!!!!!). We sampled Swiss food (they have these crazy pastries that look like little men), walked through castles, pastures and mountains and tried talking to Swiss people as often as possible. The nightlife was also ridiculous in Lucerne. I now know where all of the absurdly good looking 20 year olds live. We went out one night just to see the Swiss culture and had a blast attempting to talk to the locals. Britt asked one guy if he had heard of the rertaurant "Bamboo" and he emphatically responded," yes! I Loved Kill Bill!". Go figure!!

I can understand why Switzerland is a neutral country—it’s too beautiful to comprehend fighting.

Link to my switzerland photo album:http://www1.snapfish.com/share/p=49121194904345570/l=308515932/g=14314790/otsc=SYE/otsi=SALB

Decaf:

1.I’m leaving for Switzerland today at 7:00 pm! Should be extraordinarily fun: we’re talking night sledding, fondue and small town living.
2.We saw Macbeth “On Broadway” (West End) last night with the famous. Patrick Stewart aka the Captain in all the Star Trek movies. He had the flu though and it was interesting except for the fact that he couldn’t really project any of his lines. Clearly why they have understudies... I dont know why he didnt use his! I had to sit on my hands the whole time because I was scared I would impulsively shoot him the trekkie sign (you know- the alien come in peace thing with two fingers on each side?).
3.This morning while I was walking to class there was a man on a unicycle peddling right behind me. At first I thought he may have been a clown, but alas, he was wearing khakis and a sweater. Oh London.
4.Just finished reading White Teeth by Zadie Smith for class. It’s fantastic. I highly recommend it.
5.I’ve become a “regular” at my Starbucks. They know my drink order now! You know you’ve made it in a city when the Barista can pick you out of the line and immediately begin frothing the skim milk for the Café Americano. God bless.

We’ll Always Have Paris

I never realized that the time 4 am actually existed, but I came face to face with it on Friday morning. I wanted to get to Paris early so I could have all day to tour so, my only option was to take the 4:45 AM train from waterloo station. Why was my train so packed? How did all these other people know about this elusive 4 am? Strange… very strange. Alex Spice better love me a lot more now… it was rough.

Arriving in Paris a little after 9:30, I immediately set out on my first daunting task-- navigating the Parisian metro system. Mind you, they speak French and are very proud of this but two train changes and a little bit of shame later (they just hate it when non-French speaking tourists try and come support their economy), I found my way to Alex’s stop. Alex lives in the 16th, a very fashionable and old-world French feeling neighborhood. Her apartment, the servant quarter in a sassy building, couldn’t look more “French”. By this I mean beautiful clapboard shutters that frame tiny Parisian streets below and a fantastic view of the Eiffel Tower. It was, sigh, picturesque.

There were so many ridiculous stories from Paris, mostly on account of ridiculous French people, but I only have so much space and so much time so, eh hmm… here are the best of the best: Stories from Paris 2007.

In the Shadow of the Eiffel Tower

Not to sound cultured and well traveled, but I’ve been to Paris twice before this visit and seen a lot of their museums and tourist places. Fortunately, Spice, a newly proclaimed native, decided that instead of going to a museum we were going to emulate the French and have a full-fledged picnic in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower. This picnic took us all day because unlike in America, where they have grocery stores, France has specialty stores. We had to go to the bread store, the cheese store, the fruit store, the sausage store… on and on it went until we were finally in front of the tower. Once there, we were envisioning cushy, green grass to loaf about on, but instead, I guess the park was under refurbishment; there was only sandy gravel. But, when in France… so we spread our spread out on the dirt and went to town. We ate slowly, appreciating our food and laborious efforts paying close attention to the pairing of cheese, bread and jams. It was a huge success. Wanting to remember this delicious day forever, we enlisted the help of some French people to take our pictures. I guess there was a language barrier because they got in the picture with us. We were too stunned to tell them that, no we didn’t want them in it… ha ha oh well. Viva la France!

Salad De Museo

Alex and I met up with some Colgate boys who were in Paris also. We all went to dinner at Spice’s favorite French restaurant, Stella’s. Known for their fish more than their service, we were excited to see what was in store of us. The waiter knew that Spice’s French was shaky and the rest of ours non-existent, but he still didn’t help us out with the translations much. There was a salad with mussels (or so spice translated) that the boys both ordered. When it came, there were two big circular pieces of meat. We all tried it. We all agreed that A. this was not a salad with mussels and B. this was the strangest tasting thing we had ever tried. We called the waiter over and he explained that we had ordered “the snout of a Pig”. I almost threw up right then and there, but not wanting to give into the French stereotype that Americans are uncultured I just stared at him, wide-eyed and probably with a look of disgust. First and last time I will ever eat snout. You have my word.

I Can Resist Everything Except Temptation or: The Day I ate Enough To Feed A Small Village

In an effort to get to know the students on a more personal level, the Colgate professors have been inviting small groups of students to their flats for dinner. Last Sunday, John, Noah, Katy and I were summoned to the house of Michael Coyle & Kara (like Madonna, she needs no last name) for a good old Sunday night dinner with the art professor, Linn Underhill and her partner, Ann. We (the students) were too excited. A: home cooked meals are occasions that one should never be anything less than ecstatic about and B: it was a chance to “play house” i.e., pretend like we are grownups going to a dinner party rather than eating microwave meals at home and not showering. Oh wait. In an effort to show our gratitude and prove that we were classier than regular 20 year olds, we picked up wine and Candy Cakes (whimsical cupcakes that are really more like giant frosted muffins with candy) and hopped on the tube over to Coyle’s flat. In retrospect I regret bringing those diabetic nightmares because we all ended up slowing picking at them until they were gone and we were stuffed beyond comfort. Sorry for that sidenote. Ah yes… So, we were greeted with the delicious smells of simmering chicken Balti and warm bread (smells that I was deprived of as a child because I guess my mom never figured out where our stove is). After the four of us gushed our praises about the delicious smells coming from the kitchen, we were ushered into the living room where we drank wine, ate cheese and looked to our professors for the social clues that would tell us how to interact in an environment other then the classroom. I’m proud and honored to report that teachers do not live in their offices and actually want to talk about other subjects then literature and art! Go figure! In all seriousness, the eight of us were engaged in conversations that can be described as nothing less than scintillating. We talked and ate until we, I sheepishly admit, stayed until 11 pm (I think we are every hosts worst nightmare… guests that don’t know when to leave). At that point, I was trying to figure out how to discreetly unbutton my pants and then roll around on their living room floor because I was that full. I cannot stress enough how much all of us ate. I’m talking way worse than Thanksgiving. The sad part is- I think Noah and Katy ate more than I did and y’all know I can polish off a thing or two. I don’t even want to talk about it because I don’t want to remember how much I consumed because it’s embarrassing. What’s important is this: students + professors+ copious amounts of home cooked food= one my most favorite London nights thus far. It just worked- it was like an athlete being in “the zone”. There were never awkward pauses and the conversations ranged from funny, personal anecdotes to politics and world issues. Cheesy, yes, but magic it was.

Stranded in Stratford…

Yesterday we took a class trip (in the “fifth-grade class trip” sense of the action) to Stratford. This means that the Art and English kids boarded a bus at 9 am, professors in tow, and journeyed three hours from the cosmopolitan splendors of London to the quaint and historically preserved countryside of Stratford. Before I unleash my unquenchable cynicism, let me preface this post by saying that Stratford is a beautiful town with delicious candy stores and cute pubs. Ok, now that that’s over, let me give it to you straight. Stratford would be fun for two hours tops; unfortunately, we had nine hours there. Stratford is like Williamsburg with all the pretend houses, people and tourist traps. We were let loose in this historical playground, given 35 quid to keep out of trouble, to feed ourselves for the day and to please, please, please see where Shakespeare may or may not have grown up. It was hysterical- 30 college kids in this tiny town with NOTHING to do. So, being the elitist Colgate students we are, we improvised and did bloody well for ourselves and I mean, misery loves company so this was a fantastic bonding experience…

First stop: lunch! This killed about an hour and the food was good too. I had a baked potato with chili. It was tough choosing between the decadence of the traditional English menu. Good thing I like potato!

Second stop: Shakespeare’s Birth Museum. Yawn. We walked into an old house with pictures of pictures of the main man, Willly S. It was so authentic and inspiring I knelt down, kissed the floor and prayed to Shakespeare’s ghost to grant me with the gift of free flowing poetry. Slash the five of us moseyed through his little house and then left feeling like cultural sellouts but with greater knowledge of the meaning of the word “facsimile”.

Third stop: Anne Hathaway’s Tea Room. This cute little teahouse is situated in a 17th century Tudor house! We had tea with scones and my friends really got to appreciate how messy I can be! We’re talking milk spills, crumbs and tea in the hair. Inspired to act like good little children, we brushed up on our manors by drinking pinky up and talking in faux British accents.

Fourth stop: The Harvard House. The Harvard House is a museum dedicated to pewter. Seriously. Pewter! It is a collection of pewter cutlery, dishes and old curators. It is probably the worst place in the world, therefore, the most fun place we visited. I don’t think I have ever laughed so hard. John and Katy made fantastic pewter stamps- an activity designed for the “younger pewter enthusiasts” and Noah asked the curator the most absurd questions ever which means I was weeping with laughter in the corner. It was an educational experience and I’m very proud to report that I learned why pewter is shiny and resilient. Please forward any questions you may have on this sensational alloy to me.

Fifth stop: Gray Gable Pub. This pub, one of the oldest pubs in the world, was awesome! I tried mulled wine- warmed red wine with cinnamon, orange slices and lots of spices. I think the only way to describe this drink is cozy. We sat at this pub for a long time just talking. Such great atmosphere.

Then we braved the cold weather and saw where Shakespeare may have died. I have nothing to report on this.

Back to the pub for dinner.

Then off to see Henry the V, Shakespeare’s 3 ½ hour epic play at the Swan Theater. The first act was “dream like” cough. And the second act was “refreshing”.
I think that sums it up nicely.

We arrived in London a little after two am. The idea of my bed has never seemed so marvelous and London so promising. It’s good to be back in my home, my city bustling with commotion and activity. On the bus ride home, gliding through the jungle of buildings with my face pressed against the glass, I’m content, with out my ipod or book, to just watch London unfold around me...

Full Frontal…. Absurdity?

I’m a boat person. Ever since I was little I remember being on my Grandfather’s boat, The Gusto, and absolutely loving it. So, when my professor informed us that we were going to be taking a cruise down the Thames River I was ecstatic. The weather was beautiful- a perfect, crisp English kinda day. I wore a light sweater, but being a seasoned sailor I threw in a scarf knowing how the wind can pick up on the water. However, as soon as we boarded our vessel the weather turned. And do I mean turned. The sky became completely overcast and started to mist. I do believe I experienced my first “English Fog”. It was miserable. My class and I were huddled together on the wooden plank seating, cursing the cold and the useless, touristy information the captain was pointing out to us along the way. It was ridiculous! Shamefully, I admit I wore my scarf like a turban with a connecting nose guard to help block out the cold. The 45 minute boat ride was 45 minutes too long but we made the best of it by making fun of all the people who “actually paid” to be here. Jolly fun.

Tonight I just came back from seeing, “Rhinoceros” a play written by Eugene Ionesco. Sparknotes version of the play: everybody in the entire town turns into a rhino except one guy (sorry if you’re coming to London to see this). Then a man got naked. Full frontal naked. And started running around onstage pretending to be a rhino. I’m not sure how I feel about all of this, needless to say it was entertaining. God bless the theater. This too was jolly fun.