Where the Devil are my Slippers?

15 minutes on a train, 1 hour and 45 minutes on the tube, 9 hours and 40 minutes on an airplane, and easy as that I'm back in Denver. For the last two days I have been wandering around in a bit of a haze, looking the wrong way when crossing streets, waking up at strange hours and experiencing, I suppose, what I have been warned about: REVERSE CULTURE SHOCK. It's true, I have scornfully noticed the number of giant SUVs, the huge portions of food, the lack of Cadbury chocolate, and the fact that American accents are everywhere, but I have also enjoyed the efficient washers and dryers, the variety and quality of the television shows, sleeping in my own bed, and seeing my family.

But, let me take you back to a time before all that, a wonderful time when I was still in London. My last few days in London were very relaxed and full of denial. I had a hard time imagining traveling back to the US after so long, and staying in a very nice house with my very nice friend made me a little reluctant to accept that fact. I managed to fit in a few more London-y experiences before I left. I made my first visit to Lewisham and visited my first 99p store (everything 99 pence or less!), went to an art show and a party with Goldsmiths art students hailing from around the world, wandered around the South Bank, and saw Big Ben on its 150th birthday. Although I'm glad to be home, I am already pining for London and my many London friends and adventures, but after this semester and how much I loved being there, I'm pretty sure London and I will be reunited sometime, somehow.

Here are a sampling of pictures from my Grand Tour of Europe:

Schonbrunn Palace in Vienna:


Wienerschnitzel:


Innsbruck:


Venice:


Well, you know...


Cannes during the Film Festival:


Paris:




Versailles:


Amsterdam:


If any of you would like another travel blog, I will be accepting donations to my travel fund, and suggestions of places to go.
Thank you for reading!

London Town Count Down

Well, I haven't been quite as successful at keeping this blog updated whilst traveling as I had hoped, but we must all remember that until just hours ago I was functioning on either hostel computers, friends' laptops or half and hour of internet cafe use (I hadn't watched a youtube video in WEEKS) so I won't judge too harshly. Now, where did we last leave off in the tale of the Grand Tour? Ah yes, in Cannes. Well...

After 3 days in Nice and Cannes, I took a magical 5 1/2 hour train ride to Paris. I say magical because after the first 2.5 hours we had only made it to Provence (Google maps tells me this is only 174km) and yet just 3 hours later, we were in Paris (762km away). The most boring, magical experience I have ever had by far. I think this is because I was so excited to get to Paris where I was meeting my friend Katie Davis who was ending her 2 week trip in Europe following her 5 month study abroad experience in India (for details see ). We stayed at a very swanky hostel in Montmatre and went on many delightful excursions including a trip to the Eiffel Tower my first night in Paris and the next day, deemed the Day of Decadence, we went to Versailles. After Versailles we ate at a cafe near our hostel and continued the decadence with literally two of the most delicious desserts I have ever tasted and an adorable bottle of wine. Thankfully, no french peasants noticed our indulgences and no one was guillotined. That night Katie took an overnight bus to Amsterdam and then a plane to America.

Being in Paris was very refreshing to me because, having lived in London with a very simple and reliable underground system, I find myself totally at home with other subways. It was lucky too to be in a city with such good public transportation because at this point in my trip, continuing even now, my left achilles tendon and subsequently my left ankle began to hurt and swell I think due to all the walking I've done in the last month. In any case, I hobbled my way through Notre Dame and the Louvre for a day, and then the next day before I left I hobbled to the Moulin Rouge and for one last glimpse of the Eiffel Tower before I made my way to Amsterdam.

This last part of my trip has been very different than the middle section; for a week and a half or so I was traveling totally alone, staying in hostels alone, eating alone, etc., but after Paris with Katie Davis I went to the city in Europe where I probably know the most people. I think there are something like 6 or 7 Occidental College students studying in Amsterdam this semester, and while I was there 4 other Oxy students, including myself, were there visiting. Because of this, I was constantly entertained. In my four days in Amsterdam I think I had a full sampling of the Amsterdam experience. I rode a bicycle, I rode on the back of a bicycle (side-saddle, the way the dutch do it), I saw canals, I saw legal prostitutes in the red-light district, saw some dutch painting, smelt the pervading smell of marijuana everywhere I went, and ate Indonesian food. On Monday the 25th I woke up at 5am to get on a train that would take me from Amsterdam to London, via Brussels and Lille.

I've been back in London since Monday. My first two nights here I stayed in a hostel over the Green Man pub in my old neighborhood where, though they didn't really advertise this fact on their website, they have triple bunk beds, which seemed very unsafe to me. Now I am staying just south of London in Brockley with my friend from my Whole Foods days, Alex Terry who is here at Goldsmiths University getting a graduate degree. Since being back in London I've been trying to squeeze in as many final London experiences as possible. I've already been to Primark (a wonderful, super cheap clothing store), Camden Market, Hyde Park, the National Gallery, eaten at Wagamama and "the french place" near LDA for the last time, saw All's Well That Ends Well at the National Theatre, I received some final words of wisdom from Richard Digby Day when I picked up the suitcase I had been storing at the school. I have a few more things I want to see and do, but it is definitely beginning to feel like it's time to go home. I'll be back in Denver on Monday, so if you want to see me silly and jet lagged, stop on by!

Cannes Do

As a bit of an introduction for those of you who haven't seen me for a few weeks/months, one of my most favorite new words/concepts is the "do", as in a noteworthy or interesting event. I like the idea of going to a do, having a do, watching a do, etc. So...

I have been in Nice in the south of France for a few days now, and it has been quite lovely (except for the actual getting here part where I was told mid-transit that the french railway workers were striking and that the train I needed to take would not be going to Nice that day. Thankfully I managed but it was a ridiculous and frustrating sort of day). Having been to California and Mexico at this time of the year, I realize that my genetics are just not made for that kind of sunshine. This sun, much much MUCH farther north is better for me. I've been outside for most of the last two days and not a part of me is sunburned! A miracle I can tell you

Today I decided to take the train to Cannes, about an hour away from Nice. The main thing that Cannes if famous for, of course, is the film festival, and fate would just so have it that the film festival is going on right now! I got off the train in Cannes and walked to the water, I started seeing more and more signs of the festival taking place until suddenly I turned a corner and thought to myself, this IS a do! Everything in the town was there to remind you that a world famous and important movie festival was going on. All the lampposts said "Cannes 62nd film Festival" and most of the restaurants had some sort of movie memorobilia displayed . There were also red carpets everywhere, different sizes and shapes for different venues, but all heavily guarded and off limits. Along the boardwalk, on the hotels facing the ocean were huge advertisments for some of the bigger films showing. On one corner was a giant robot for the new Transformers movie, and covering the whole front of one hotel was a snow-covered Christmas wonderland for a new version of a Christmas Carol starring Jim Carrey coming out this winter.

As for the boardwalk at Cannes, I can't say if it is usually this busy or strange, but it was certainly full of tourists and locals and by far the best/weirdest street performer I have ever witnessed. I think we've all seen the living statue street performers who paint themselves some metalic color and then stand very still and occasionally dance around or something when an audience member gives them money. Well, imagine that concept, expect replace metalic statue with a man dressed as Mozart and painted white, add in really terrible muzak playing from a boom box, and most importantly, add in a white and a black cat. This Mozart statue man stood on a pedestal, holding the two very docile cats and slightly dancing to the music as tourists took pictures of him. Sometimes he would put one of the cats on his hat where it would appear to fall asleep and he would give the other cat stuffed animals to hold, and once, very cleverly indeed, he had the cat hold the box for people to put money in. I have never seen cats so calm for so long--I think he may have drugged them. I watched this occur for a good 10 minutes, but if I had stayed much longer he probably would have noticed me and insisted I pay him for his performance.

Though I saw no celebrities and was discovered by no bigshot movie producers, Cannes truly was a do. I've had a delightful time in the south of France, but tomorrow morning I hop a train to Paris where I shall meet again with my dear friend Katie Davis, where adventures shall be had, wine shall be drunk, crepes shall be eaten and sights shall be seen. Au revoir

Flaneuring About

Flaneur: A wanderer through a city (I learned this word from James McAvoy in the play Three Days of Rain)
This is a pretty apt description of the last few days for me, except that it doesn't mention the part where I am usually lost. Oh well, not all definitions can be complete.
I just wanted to let you all know that I am in fact alive. I am currently in a very swanky and beautiful hostel in Venice right on the Grand Canal but since I wrote you last, I also finished my stay in Austria with a night in Innsbruck. Yesterday I literally travelled from the Alps to the Ocean in some of the most beautiful countryside I have ever seen. Today I will explore Venice and eat more gelato, and tomorrow I'm off to Pisa!

,,When In Wien"

I've been in Wien, Österreich (Vienna, Austria) since Tuesday visiting my dear friend Christy Henderson who has been studying here since January. Tuesday was an interesting day for me-I very reluctantly left my flat in London, mainly because at some point during the day they would have actually forcibly removed me from the premises, made my way to Gatwick Airport and flew to a country where I spoke not a word of the language. (I still haven't really gotten over London--one of Christy's roommates has a large collection of DVDs, out of which I've chosen to watch pretty much only movies that are set in or have to do with England in some way, or the characters have british accents.)
Still, I'm very glad I'm here. I'm fairly certain that had Christy not studied here I would not have come to Vienna--I've never felt any particular curiosity or interest in Vienna or Austria, and of all the places in Europe I could visit, it was not high on my list--but since coming here I have realized what a wonderful city it is. It is still a little strange for me to be in a city where everyone is not speaking my language (thankfully it appears that EVERYONE speaks at least some English), and I have definitely almost been hit by at least 5 cars (they drive here on the wrong? right? American? side of the road), but I have found my way around pretty well. Austria, like so many cities in Europe, has a very long and interesting History, several palace, huge cathedrals, and a lot of Austrian pride. The Viennese are particularly proud of Mozart, despite the fact he was actually born in Salzburg, and in front of every music establishment, several museums, and many special candy stores (specializing in candy with Mozart on it) there are men dressed up as Mozart trying to sell you things. The best is to see these men when they are on their breaks, eating lunch and riding the Strassenbahn (part of Vienna public transport) in full Mozart gear.
So far of the main Vienna sights to see I have viewed St. Stephen's Cathedral, Karlskirche, the Opera, Naschmarkt, the Parliament, several Museums, historic U-Bahn (subway) stations, and Schönbrunn. On Wednesday I wen to Karlskirche, a baroque cathedral with a beautifully painted dome, which, due to renovations from a few years ago, has huge scaffolding inside going all the way up into the dome that tourists can ascend. Apparently the church continually says that they are about to take the scaffolding down since it sort of ruins the effect of the church, but the money it makes from tourists paying to have this fairly unique experience has convinced them to keep it there for the time being. It was amazing to see the painting, the architecture and the view from that height in a church, a sight that in most churches only those painting the fresco would ever see. It was also slightly terrifying to be so very high on years old scaffolding, swaying slightly as 20-30 tourists wandered up and down.
Though we did other things on Thursday, the most important part was going to get Sachertorte and Melange at the Sacher Cafe, Sachertorte is a kind of chocolate cake which was the center of a lawsuit for many years as to who had invented the original recipe, and melange is delicious, milky coffee. Both are wonderful, though perhaps not worth a lawsuit...
Yesterday I met Christy after her German class. We got lunch at the outdoor market, the Naschmarkt, and then went to Schönbrunn, the former summer palace of the Hapsburg family, now a public park and museum. Christy tells me that part of the idea behind Schönbrunn was to make it the Versailles of the East, and they seem to have done a pretty good job of it. I especially liked the fake roman statues and ruins, and the enormous fountains dotting the grounds. From the top of the hill behind the palace, where sits a building called the Gloriette, you can see a view of all of Vienna and the surrounding forests. After Schönbrunn, Christy took me back into town and we got in line for standing room tickets to the Opera. It was Wagner's Siegfried, the third of four opera's in Wagner's Ring Cycle. Not everyone knows quite how much I like the Rings Cycle (in fact, probably only Katie Davis knows how excited I was to see this performance) but even without this added Wagner excitement, the Opera and the performances where unbelievable. I happily stood for hours in a hot and sometimes smelly crowd watching this amazing production for 4 euro. Lovely.
I think the rest of my trip in Vienna is going to be filled with Christy trying to get me to eat as much traditional Viennese food and drink as much Viennese wine as possible, and on Monday I begin the epic train journey through Italy, France, Belgium and The Netherlands.
I don't have a way of uploading pictures until I get back to London on the 28th, but eventually i will have proof of some of these amazing sights.
Aufwiederzehn!

Satirical, Sarcastical, Tragical, Comical

I’ve just started my summer vacation, and I’ve never wanted to be on vacation any less. More school please! Or, at least more fun drama school. I’m working on a couple of plans to keep me in London somehow (these plans include being adopted by Richard Digby-Day and Michael Winter, finding a British citizen to marry, creating a false identity—most of these plans involve winning the lottery so I can support myself). Even this past week has not lessened my love of London, LDA and the ridiculous tasks they set and expectations they have for us. In the past 7 days I have had all of my final classes (each one sadder than the last with the exceptions of Dramatic Literature and Speech) and several final performances.
Last Monday we had our Movement, Historical Dance and Stage Combat finals. For Movement, we had to create a movement piece with a partner showing what we had learned in the semester and displaying Laban’s movement practices. The pieces ranged from dance-y pieces set to music, a vaudeville-style act, a Dr. Seuss inspired piece and finally mine, which was based around MONSTERS.
Our Historical Dance showing followed immediately afterwards and really turned out to be, as Richard Digby-Day apparently calls it when students aren’t around, hysterical dance. Some of the dances we all knew very well, some, just a few couples really and truly knew, and for the Gallop Finale, I think only 1 couple made it all the way through with no mistakes…Oh well, at least it was hysterical.
For Stage Combat, we all learned the Mercutio/Tybalt/Romeo fight scene from Romeo and Juliet and it was performed 6 times that afternoon so that everyone got a chance to do some combat. Let me tell you, I make a great Romeo (I especially liked the irony of my line “oh, sweet Juliet, thy beauty hath made me effeminate”). Even though I knew all of the choreography I was actually occasionally scared or surprised by the fighting and the rage behind it, So I think we did a pretty good job.
On Tuesday, I had one of the most terrifying experiences of all time: the LDA final review. This consists of each student, one by one, going into a room filled with all of the tutors (over 20 people), sitting in a chair facing all of them as, one by one, each tutor tells you what you are good at and what you are bad at and how hard you tried during the semester and what more you should have done and can do. I have rarely been so nervous, but my overall comments were very positive, constructive, and lovely. I never want to do that again though.
Until Friday I was free from finals, but Friday afternoon was the UBER-final, the Shakespeare showing. Here we performed speeches from Richard III, and scenes from Measure for Measure and All’s Well that Ends Well. Once again, almost all the tutors were in the same room, staring at me, but I felt a little more sure of myself and I wanted to prove to them all that the nice things they said about me were true. After the showing we had a party at school where I paid many a tearful goodbye to most of my tutors and sadly left for the last time. Tomorrow I fly to Vienna to begin a European adventure until I return to the states on June 1st. I will attempt some updates whilst I travel, but I will happily tell everyone everything about this semester when I see your lovely faces in person again.

P.S. We also took a day trip last weekend to Jane Austen’s house, Winchester and Stonehenge, and here are some pictures from that journey.

A Brief Updates With Pictures

BUSY!!!! This is essentially our last week of classes and next week we have a final performances in almost every class…hmmm, I should probably be working on those projects now. Anyway, hopefully after next week I can post many amazing pictures and videos of these projects for you to enjoy. But for now, here are some pictures of the last couple of weeks to assure you that I am alive and well in London town.

Easter Eggs


Fire of London Memorial


Remains of original Roman London


A Wagamama (just for Katie Davis)


Imelda Staunton and LDA

Stratford, Sicilia, and Shakespeare: Exit, Pursued by a Bair

Bright and early on Thursday morning the entirety of the London Dramatic Academy, including Richard Digby-Day and Michael Winter, boarded a coach and began our 2.5 hour pilgrimage to Stratford-upon-Avon. LDA had rented for us one of those tourist travel-coaches that look like airplanes inside, are very conspicuous and awkward on the road and are fitted with a microphone, a feature taken full advantage of by Richard. During the 2.5 hours, about half that time was filled with Richard lecturing about Stratford, Kenilworth Castle (our first stop on the trip), Shakespeare and “A Winter’s Tale” (the show we were seeing in Stratford that night). When we finally arrived at Kenilworth Castle we were certainly ready to have a good run around castle ruins and English countryside.
Kenilworth Castle is a ruined castle a few miles outside of Stratford which had a very interesting history through the English Civil War and then, as Richard explained, “it more or less has become very boring since then.” Originally built by William the Conqueror, the most interesting part of its history was when it belonged to Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, and where Dudley apparently made his grandest and most obvious attempt to impress and woo Queen Elizabeth I. As we were looking at the one restored area of the ruins, the Elizabethan gatehouse, Michael Winter crept up behind me and my friend Anne, tapped us on the shoulder and said “did you see the fireplace downstairs? I touched that. Queen Elizabeth must have touched that when she was here. Go along, go touch it!” And we did.
Around noon we all returned to the bus and finally drove into Stratford. The town of Stratford (upon the Avon river) is a strange one—some sections are a very nice, normal, English country town, other parts are like a Shakespeare theme park. Everything in the center of Stratford has a Shakespeare-y name: Othello’s restaurant, Falstaff Towers flats, If Music Be the Food of Love café. The street with Shakespeare’s birthplace is filled with these sorts of restaurants, Shakespeare bookstores, and occasionally actors dressed in Elizabethan garb wandering the street performing famous scenes. After lunch we were split into two groups, one led by Richard and mine led by Michael, for a walking tour of Stratford.
Michael Winter is the greatest and best of all men, and he LOVES Shakespeare and reading Shakespeare and thinking about Shakespeare and imagining what his life was like. In Shakespeare class, he always tells us what his best guess is to which role in each play Shakespeare wrote for himself. So, it wasn’t surprising that the route that Michael chose to tour us through Stratford was what he believed to be the walk Shakespeare would have taken to school everyday. Starting from Shakespeare’s birthplace we saw Shakespeare’s school, his church, the location of the home he bought for himself (torn down a few centuries ago over some sort of tax dispute) and we ended by seeing his grave. We then walked along the Avon to where the Royal Shakespeare Company would be performing “A Winter’s Tale” that night.
I’d never seen or read “A Winter’s Tale” so I was excited to see what the RSC would do. Unfortunately, it was just not a good production. Michael and Richard hated it, and kept falling asleep. It’s really an amazing play, but the script—which calls for a baby, and bear, a satyr dance, and a statue coming to life all on stage—is very difficult and needs good direction and clear use of the language to make any sense of all. The best part of the play actually was the bear, which wasn’t real as Michael supposed the one in the original production would have been since there was a bear-bating ring next to the original Globe, but was a massive and amazing puppet. Some of my fellow students complained that this production changed Shakespeare’s most famous stage direction “Exit, pursued by a bear” (the character wasn’t so much pursued as eaten on stage) but I didn’t mind.
After the show we got back on the bus for a long ride home, arrive at 12:30am, and then we were back to classes at 9:30 the next morning. It was a delightfully Shakespeare filled day for one and all.

Visits, Protests and Inspiration

It has been an eventful week. Today was our first day back to classes after our second break, but much more occurred in those 5 days of break than I often get to witness in a normal week. To start, this week Barack Obama finally paid me a visit in London so that I was, for the first time, in the same country as our most awesome President. My second visit came on Friday when my dearest dear friend Christy Henderson flew from Vienna, Austria (where she is studying Economics and eating cake and drinking coffee and speaking German) to spend the weekend with me. She hadn’t spent much time in London before, so we enjoyed some very touristy activities. On Saturday alone we saw: Trafalgar Square, the National Portrait Gallery, Big Ben, Parliament, the Eye, the National Theatre, the Tate Modern, the Millennium Bridge, St. Paul’s Cathedral, and Buckingham Palace. Saturday night we went pub hopping, and Christy was treated to the strange phenomena of bad American music from 5-15 years ago being played full blast to pubs full of middle-aged Londoners. On Sunday we went on a lovely walk through Hyde Park, ate French food on the run, took a double-decker bus home, explored Maida Vale and Little Venice and sampled all varieties of British candy and cookies. On Monday she flew back to Vienna after having crammed weeks worth of London activities into 2 days.
Meanwhile, the gear-up for the G20 summit was in full swing. On Saturday when Christy and I exited the Tube in Trafalgar Square we stumbled upon a 50,000 person strong protest march all along the route I had chosen to walk Christy along. Hundreds of groups were represented in the march that wound past Trafalgar Square and down towards Westminster Abbey and Big Ben. Most of the march was made up of groups with matching t-shirts and big signs, some had marching bands, others mega-horns, but a few of the groups were truly frightening and memorable. What stands out most to me from the march, other than the sheer number of people involved, was the group that had made huge Carnival-esque puppets
representing the riders of the apocalypse following a sign that read “CAPITALISM ISN’T WORKING.” Thankfully this huge march remained peaceful, but witnessing that number of people all in one place made it very clear in my mind that any of these events could turn into horrible violence and chaos very easily. As it was, the protest was a somewhat ominous, but overall an amazing example of organized and positive protest.
The fervor over the G20 has put London in a strange mood, and ending this break, which more or less marks one month to go until the end of my studies in London, has put everyone in my program in a strange mood as well. To counteract this moodiness, last night my flatmate Kat and I made the best choice we’ve ever made and got student rush tickets (in the 4th row wonderfully enough) for the play Three Days of Rain. Our main motivation for going to this show was, slightly embarrassingly, to see handsome Scottish actor James McAvoy live on stage, but it turned out that this show was the best one we have seen since coming to London. An excellent script, a perfect cast, amazing direction, everything about this show was good. EVERYTHING. James McAvoy was brilliant. His performance literally re-inspired me in my love of theatre and, cheesy as this sounds, reminded me why I am here in the first place. The whole show in fact was an inspiration and Kat and I could barely speak after it was over. We ran immediately from the theatre to the stage door to try to speak to the actors and tell them how much we appreciated their performances. Pretty quickly, the area was swarmed by teenage girls and middle-aged women desperate to see James McAvoy. When he finally came out to sign autographs we somehow managed to grab his attention, tell him we were in drama school, and badly articulate how moving his performance had been. He then proceeded to give us advice and encouragement about drama school and acting, and basically proved himself to be the best person in the world. I was so excited to go back to classes today, and the James McAvoy magic worked, because my tutors were all happily surprised at my newfound energy and motivation.
Well, that’s quite enough for one blog post, but if anyone wants to hear more about James McAvoy, feel free to ask.

Living in the Past

I like Mondays at LDA despite the fact that I end up totally and completely exhausted by the end of them. We have all but one of our movement classes, and stuck in the middle of the day is a two hour class called Dramatic Literature, which sounds interesting, but is really more like “learn how to subtly yawn” class “nap-avoidance” class. It’s a cruel test of will power in the midst of some very physically demanding classes. We have our class that is actually titled Movement, and honestly, you would all be amazed at the great physical feats I have achieved in this class. Backbends, handstands, handstands into forward rolls, handstands into backbends, etc. The thing I like most about Mondays though is that they allow me to pretend I’m in the past. On Mondays I basically receive the training that aristocratic children in England up until the 19th century would receive—dance and sword training. In the mornings I have Historical Dance, where we have learned dances spanning from the medieval period to the 1800s. I can now dance a fair Coranto, perform a lively Galliard, partake in a stately Pavane, and know all of Mr. Beveridge’s Maggot. I particularly like the 18th and 19th century dances because they make me feel most like I’m living in a Jane Austen novel. At night we have Stage Combat where I learn foot work (advances, retreats, pass backs and forwards), parries (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7) attacks, trusts, slices, binds and other generally amazing feats of swordplay. While I tend to fancy myself a very lovely dancer and a deadly fencer, both tutors of these classes have pointed out that what we’re learning would have been taught to children of about 7 or 8. So, I’m in the remedial class, but I bet I can out-waltz you or surprise you with some clever deceptions and unexpected slashes of my rapier any day.

The THEATRE

Not much of note has been happening lately—going to classes, getting home late, watching the movie High Society (a very regular occurrence since it is the one DVD owned by an LDA student that plays in the European DVD players) etc.—so instead of a weekly round-up of my activities (although I would like to point out that this week I did my first handstand totally on my own in my life, shortly followed by a handstand going into a forward role) I think I’ll dedicate this blog post to the British Theatre. As was pointed out to me yesterday during a tour of the Tate Britain, rather than being a culture of painters or musicians, Britain has always been a theatrical country. Since Elizabethan times London has been filled with actors and playwrights and, other than the years under Oliver Cromwell’s rule, theatre has been at the forefront of British culture.
I have seen almost a dozen plays since arriving in London, and sitting amongst the Britons and hearing their conversations during and after performances, it is easy to recognize that theatre is much more a part of the national cultural consciousness than in America. That is not to say that all audiences here are brilliant—last night I was treated to a near constant stream of
muttering from behind me: “what are they saying?” “If they’re in Russia why do they not speak in accents?” “is he Stalin?” “Is Stalin in this play?” “That one, that one, I bet he turns out bad”—but certainly a much larger number of people seem to attend the theatre every night than in the US.
The shows I’ve seen have ranged from very small, hidden away theatres to the West End (England’s Broadway for those who aren’t familiar), and with only a couple of exceptions, everything I’ve seen has been impressively good. I sometimes worry that I might become one of those theatre students who, knowing too much about theatre, become too critical of every show they see and subsequently hate everything, and while I don’t think I will reach that point, I do come to theatre with a fairly critical eye. I have seen a few shows in Los Angeles, only one of which I thought was good at all. Every show I’ve seen here has been better than that one. Actors on stage here, generally, really want to be stage actors, they love being on stage and they love performing for an audience. Productions here have been more original and more inspiring to me than a lot of live theatre I’ve seen in the last few years. The best shows so far have been O’Hagan’s Be Near Me and Flannery’s Burnt By the Sun, and I hope to see War Horse soon. Since I will probably go into theatre withdrawal after this semester because I won’t be able to afford to see any shows, if any of you blog readers would like to take me to some shows, I will gladly give you in exchange my criticisms, critiques, insights and jealousies in return. Think about it.

P.S. Last night I went to the theatre as usual but to see a show starring Imelda Staunton called "Entertaining Mr. Sloane." Most of the shows we've seen we have been seated VERY far back in the theatre, so when I picked up my ticket and the seat assigned me was A3 I was understandably confused. I asked how this miraculous front row ticket had fallen into my hands and I was simply told "Oh, Imelda got us these tickets." Whoa. Front row in the West End is kind of a big deal. Imelda is also coming to teach us a master class next week. If she acts anything like Professor Umbridge, I'll add her to the "why my life is like Harry Potter" list, but I expect she will be delightful and lovely. Oh well.

A Weekend In The Country, How Amusing, How Delightfully Droll

Sunday marked the end of our first semester break. Many of my fellow students jetted off Wednesday evening to Paris or Dublin, but I took a much more Hobbity vacation*. For the first two days, I spent time in my empty flat, cooking, cleaning, reading, watching movies and generally indulging my home-body side. Then, on Saturday morning I took a train to Moreton-in-Marsh in Gloucestershire where Toby and Anthony Cragg, here for the weekend from Colorado to see the Carling Cup final, met me at the station and took me to their beautiful country home. Here we traipsed about the Cotswolds, played croquet, looked at pheasants and deer, had a leisurely supper at The Horse and Groom pub, and generally enjoyed the country life. Maybe not as exciting as a whirlwind tour of another country, but it was certainly a more calm and restful way to spend the break.

*Hobbits, of course, loving above all things good food, good company, their Hobbit holes, and a lovely countryside to walk in.

Why My Life in London is Like Harry Potter

1. We have a class called History Of British Theatre that is so boring I almost fall asleep every week and is taught by an old man who shall not be deterred from his lesson no matter how bored/unconscious his students appear to be. Thus we call this class History of Magic and our tutor Professor Binns.

2. Since coming here I have eaten trifle, treacle, pasties, and many strange and delicious varieties of candy.

3. I take a wide assortment of classes all day long, all of which are somewhat baffling to me, and many of which either seem very frightening and dangerous or have actually resulted in an injury.

4. My black haired, hooked nose tutor is unnecessarily mean to everyone, but especially to me, and would rather be teaching a different class.

5. The school is run by an eccentric older man who makes brief, enlightening appearances into my life and then disappears again.

6. Every tutor is a unique kind of crazy, and seems perfectly suited to the strange subject they are teaching.

7. Every Monday, my flat is mysteriously cleaned by someone (or some-elf) I never have seen but who does a thoughtful and meticulous job.

8. My mail is delivered to me at school in “pigeon holes” which is basically the same as delivery by owl.

9. We have (K)Night Buses

Not convinced? Just ask me to do some magic when I get back to the US in June…

MOM in LDN

This past week I had a wonderful visit from my wonderful mother in the wonderful city of London. Other than being a well needed dose of unconditional love and support (much needed I realized since I spend most of my days being told what’s wrong with me and what I need to improve about myself, a little disheartening after a while), Mummy’s visit provided me with the excuse and the means to do some very touristy things in London. She arrived last Wednesday, met me for lunch and dinner each day and patiently waited for me to be freed from LDA for the weekend. This time was not totally wasted since we did in our wandering discover a delightful cupcake shop, which has shown me that if I try hard enough I can find cupcakes anywhere—Auntie Em’s in Eagle Rock, The Shoppe in Denver and now Buttercup in Kensington—even though I had been told that cupcakes don’t exist in London. On Saturday, we started off our grand tour of London with the ultimate tourist activity: the London Eye. When the Eye was built it apparently was a major point of contention, some people loving it but many others arguing that it ruined the London skyline. Personally, I love the Eye. I think it adds a very modern but still unique and whimsical new sight to the Thames South Bank. Therefore, I was very excited to take a spin. For how pricey and how sort of blatantly tourist oriented the Eye is, if you haven’t done it, do it the next time you are in London. You can see so many of the most famous London landmarks on the ride that what should be very boring (30-40 minutes moving slowly in a circle) is endlessly fascinating and feels much too short. After the Eye we wandered down the South Bank (in all honesty, in search of a Starbucks), crossed the Millennium Bridge from the Tate Modern and crossed to St. Paul’s, found a tube stop and made our way to Portobello Road. Hopefully you have all seen the Disney classic Bedknobs and Broomsticks, but if you haven’t (and you really should—it’s like a Mary Poppins knock-off) here is a sampling of the most memorable song from the film and the main reason that I wanted to visit the Portobello Road market. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zqY1lHJYIgY Like Camden Market (which I visited last weekend, and which was described to me by one Lucky Gretzinger as “Portobello Road with freaks”) Portobello Road is an endless line of jewelry, antique, clothing, food and misc. stalls and tables with some of the best shopping in one place.
Truly “Portobello Road, Portobello Road Street where the riches of ages are stowed Artifacts to glorify our regal abode Are hidden in the flotsam in Portobello Road You’ll find what you want in the Portobello Road”. That seemed like quite enough for one day. On Sunday we got up bright and early and made out way to the Tower of London. My knowledge of the Tower of London before this point came from references in literature and movies, mainly when people are sent there to be gruesomely killed. This was it turns out a pretty accurate impression, but there is some interesting history of the building and succession of monarchs. After the Tower—basically the original permanent palace in London built by William the Conqueror—we went to see Buckingham Palace. This was probably one of the best visits I’ve ever received (despite the fact that British TV conspired against us and prevented us from watching the Oscars). Anyone else who wants to come pay me a delightful visit, please feel free.