Shakespeare and Grahame

I’m not quite sure what has happened in the last week. My last clear memory is of last Sunday when I had three delightful visitors—Justin, Alex 2 and Sara—Occidental College friends on their way to Amsterdam. We visited the Tate Modern museum and I got my first glimpse of the Thames, Big Ben, and the London Eye. I’ve never seen a city with so many landmarks not only within walking distance of each other but literally close enough to be captured in the same frame of a picture. After Sunday, everything begins to blur.

Almost everyday this week my presence was required at 9am at LDA and I was not released until 8pm. We’ve had a sampling of many of our classes: Historical dance (I’ve learned a Farandole, a Renaissance dance that requires a lot of running) Physical Theatre (contact games including looking into each others’ eyes and clapping, jumping, and falling to the floor at the same time) Movement (rolling around on the floor, handstands, running and lots of sweating). But, the majority of the week was spent on Shakespeare’s sonnets and the infamous LDA novel project. Our work on the sonnets involved a lovely old lady called Rosalind Knight telling me how to say my sonnet and why the way I was saying it was all wrong. “So, is it NOT with me, (pause) as with that Muse,/ stirred by a painted beauty to his verse./ Who heaven itself an ornament doth use—/and every fair with his fair doth rehearse.” For the novel project, our 20 students were split into 3 groups and each group was assigned about 5 pages from the novel The Wind in the Willows to present as a performance piece, the only rules being that the language must be clear and not a word from the original text could be added or removed. I’ve been embracing my inner Mole for 5 days now, and will continue to do so for the next two days until our final presentation on Sunday.
Tonight, mercifully, we were done at 5pm, so I’ve been doing all the important things I’ve neglected the past 5 days: cooking a meal that actually includes more than 1 food group, drinking cheap wine from Odd-Bins down the road, setting up a Blockbuster account and renting a movie, and of course, updating my blog. Back to LDA a 10am tomorrow, but for now, all is well.

The Rain In Spai...England Stays Mainly in the Plai...Maida Vale

The London Dramatic Academy does not mess around. Since Thursday I have certainly spent more waking hours in our Kensington classrooms than in my flat. We started orientation Thursday afternoon where we had 2 or 3 talks warning of the dangers of London while simultaneously being told that none of the dangers-terrorists, tea leaves (aka theives), ATM scams, exploding boilers, fires-would likely happen to us. The next day, we had our first taste of Richard Digby-Day, the artistic director of the program, and then later our Shakespeare Tutor/Tour Guide Michael Winter. Of the many pearls of wisdom they bestowed upon us some were: "We've banned the use of the word *awesome*, firstly because it means nothing, and secondly because things RARELY are", "You see the Victorians, they were so fussy. Horrible really,”, “Anyone who wastes their money on Andrew Lloyd Weber shall lose a grade.” All of the tutors are very prominently and delightfully British. It is sometimes easy to forget we are in London since we are around American students all day long. This morning we had diagnostic meetings for our Alexander Technique and Voice training. I’m not totally sure what the Alexander Technique is (google it, and I’ll let you know when I have a better idea) but the diagnostic meeting involved me bending my knees and picking up a chair. In my Voice meeting, the tutor listened to me perform 1 Shakespeare speech, put her hands on my ribcage as I spoke and told me everything that was wrong with the way I breathe and speak (shallow breathing, tight shoulders and talking too fast). Classes really begin in earnest next week, in fact after tomorrow I will not have a free day until February 7th, but the few tastes of LDA that I’ve had have made me very excited to get started.


P.S. Other adventures this week have included RAIN, learning how to use the Tube, being reassured by Uncle Kev, a drunk man in a pub, that he is not a threat saying “don’ worry ‘bout me, I en’t like that. You girls, I ‘ave kids yer age meself, yer like me babies. So don’ worry ‘bout them in this pub, I kill men like that”, Strongbow on tap, failing heaters and a crazy neighbor who calls the landlord when we slam the door.

OBAMARAMA London Edition

In case you didn’t know, everyone in the world LOVES Barack Obama. And now, by extension, they find all Americans much more interesting and delightful than ever before. The British seem very proud of us; not only have people I’ve met in pubs and stores commented on Obama and how excited they are for his presidency, but the BBC covered the entire Inauguration live this afternoon. Other than mistakenly identifying “My Country ‘Tis of Thee” as the national anthem and talking over some of the musical pieces, the reporting was extremely enthusiastic and respectful. After the ceremony, the BBC continued to report on Obama, specifically the impact his presidency will have in the UK. I never realized that the UK has the same sorts of issues with race and public office that we have in the US(in fact, based on what I saw today, it may be in some ways worse here) because the most consistent statement in the interviews they played was the newfound hope that now someday there could be a black Prime Minister. They also followed the story of a few Londoners that had flown to DC to be a part of the inauguration, just so they could be closer to this historical moment. Barack Obama’s election was one of the most moving moments I’ve ever experienced as an American, but I can now see that sentiment is much more worldwide than I could have imagined.

I Made It!

I am sitting in my flat in London, rain is pouring outside, a tabby cat is wandering around in my back garden...I know, you're jealous, right? Well, I earned it, because this was a trip full of near disasters and problem solving after only 3 hours of sleep. Yesterday as I was completing my final packing, I received a call from British Airways informing me that my flight would be an hour and a half later than scheduled, making the timing very tight for me to get to my shuttle, from Heathrow to the flats, on time. This caused me not a little stress while still in Denver, but I reasoned that an hour between landing and the shuttle leaving would be time enough. At the airport, I sat watching British parents trying to tire out their adorable British children before the 9 hour flight, but this heartwarming scene was soon destroyed by a series of horrible announcements. Our already delayed plane was still not boarding 2 hours after the original departure time, and the British Airways staff continued to make vague announcements about "electrical problems" that needed to be solved. Finally, a harried woman came out to announce that whatever the problem was, they had exhausted all means to fix it except for "rebooting the plane..sort of like a computer." A very reassuring statement to make before a transatlantic flight. Finally on the plane, all was well, but of course we landed 5 minutes after the shuttle was to leave Heathrow. Customs and Immigration, baggage claim etc. all went smoothly, but after that I found myself in London with two heavy suitcases and no concept of where I was going or how far it was. I followed instructions provided by the school, found the Heathrow Express train, took it to Paddington station, and caught a black cab. Our instructions were to pick up our keys at a hotel and then go on to the flats, which I did, and when I asked the cabby to wait for me outside the hotel he looked at me suspiciously as asked if I was a spy. "Seems like spy behavior, that" he said. Happily all worked out fine, and I am now getting settled for the next 4 months of living in London! Stay tuned for further adventures...