So my dear faithful readers, remember last time when I told you about the creepy, overzealous (if not slightly good looking) Italian man in the park? Well, I believe I may have jinxed myself.
This week, I have been in the presence of no less than three slightly creepy men (and that's not counting a couple of other less eventful encounters).
The first of these chance meetings occured at the University Union pub where I had just finished lunch and was settling in to read my book (The Bolyn inheritance which I found at a charity shop for a pound) with a surprisingly good late.
When we first arrived for Lunch, the pub was so crowded that my friends and I had to scavage for the first booth we could find. By the time I began reading my book, late in hand, my friends had gone to their afternoon classes and almost everyone else in the pub had seen fit to do the same. The only patrons now were myself and a small group of students sitting in the booth to the front of mine.
It was at this time that another patron entered the pub, an elderly man in a tweed jacket and rather nice hat. He walked through the door, passed at least five or six empty tables and one empty booth, stopped at my booth and without looking up, without speaking, without acknowledging the fact that I was there, set his things down in the booth I was occupying, sat down and proceeded to write.
Now, perhaps it's simply an American thing, perhaps I'm just an overly anal person who does not like to have her space invaded, but, to me, something about this seemed rather off. I stared at him for a couple of seconds, I cleared my throat just in case he was a bit blind and truly hadn't noticed that the person reading at the same table he had chosen to occupy.
He glanced up at me for half of a milisecond and continued writing. I stayed for a minute or two and continued to read. Afterall, why should I be pushed out of my rightful seat by an elderly man with a fixation on booths and no concept of personal space?
However, after a minute or two, the creepiness of the situation made me feel too uncomfortable, so I gulped down my latte and headed over to Waterstones across the street to continue my reading.
You may say, 'well, one incident with an elderly man in a booth doesn't exactly count as a curse now does it?', and I would tell you to mind your manners and wait until I've finished.
Because, while one elderly gentleman may not equal "creepers out the wazoo", another at the pub the same evening would begin to make anyone a little suspicious.
Later that night, while Alysha, Mary and I were sitting at a pub called 'The Famous Cock' (more juvinile members of my reading audience are given full permision to giggle uncontrolably), eating our diner and minding our own business, another not elderly gentleman walked up to our table.
'Is the food here good?' he asked us. Because this is not SUCH an unussual question, we all replied with the affermative.
'Oh, that's good to hear' he says. We think that he will leave it at that, walk up to the bar and order. However he just stands there slightly awkwardly, staring at us.
'Not as good as my mum's though probably,' he says finally.
Not knowing what to say we kind of look at eachother questioningly. The man does not leave. Finally Mary says:
'Yeah, well nothings ever as good as mom's' we all laugh slightly uncomfortably. The guy chuckles still swaying awkwardly from one foot to the other.
'Except for my food,' he says desperately 'I'm a good cook'.
'Oh' we all say. There is the longest silence yet.
Finally he says: 'Well, I guess I'd better go order'
'yeah,' we all agree. Finally, he goes to the bar and we all breath collective sighs of releif.
Even though he did not speak to us the rest of the evening, he choose the small table right across from ours and stared at us until we left.
No less than two days after that incident, I went to a club which just happened to be full of creepy men. This incident has caused me to realize that I am far too trusting and should not dance with just anyone; even if I am at a club.
Alysha said that night: 'Geez Rachel, what is it with you and creepers?'
Perhaps that is the question which I will send out into the void today.
Despite the creepiness of certain creepers however, I am glad to report that London has not only been a place of awkward romantic encounters. I have seen much to make the inner nerd inside me squee uncontrolably.
For example, I have been to the globe twice. The Theater itself is amazing and the ammount of history recounted in the exhibition is something to behold. I got to hear recordings of famous shakespear speeches performed by Kenneth Branough (who holds the Shakespear loving portion of my heart in his hands) as well as Peter O'tool and Laurence Oliver (I've never been a fan of his actually. He was always a bit too stagey for me).
I've come to realize that the Globe to Shakespear actors and fans is what Lothlorian was to the Elves in Lord of the Rings. I kept humming bits of the lothlorian song from the lotr musical durring the tour and was being given strange looks by many of the other sight seers.
So, you see, despite what it may appear London is not only a land of creepy men and a non-existant grid system, but also of Shakespear, history and culture. Hopefully this post has helped me to break the jinx of the creepers and on my way to pick up my laundry I shall meet a nice, good looking, non creepy and (preferably) rich man who will ask me out for coffee. Keep your fingers crossed!
Saturday 31 January 2009
Monday 26 January 2009
Welcome dear reader, to the trials and tribulations (allthough slightly less dramatic than one might expect) of an American student attempting to gain a life of independence and stability while studying in London.
I have been here nearly a month and until today, while I had several exciting adventures, have not seen fit to bother you with them as they might have seemed tedious or infantile. However, lately I've found that I simply can not keep certain things to myself and must put them out into the endless void for those who are interested, bored or simply searching for an innocent soul to cyber stalk to critique and comment upon.
Because I can not provide you with an in depth analysis of my entire time spent here, I shall instead relay to you several important highlights of my month so far in summarry. I have been lost no less than 10 times in various situations. The first, understandably was on the tube with two of the other girls in my house (That is the house with the blue door in Notting Hill gate, in case any homicidal maniac is wondering...though, as it turns out,there are many houses with blue front doors in Notting hill. So, good luck finding the right one!)
The second of my lost in London adventures occured when my room mate Lexi and I were left behind on the first day of orrientation and had to find our way to the St. Giles hotel on our own; we were around 45 minutes late. Though, to be fair, we were given misleading directions several times and when we arrived at orrientation, we hadn't missed much. (Also, we were not the last ones to arrive).
The last and possibly most traumatic of my 'lost' experiences occured when I was attempting to find my way back to school by taking the Tube from the Globe Theater where my Shakespear class had taken a feild trip that morning. I was to meet my London in Literature class at school so that we could go to the Dickens museum together. Straight forward as this may seem; there was a problem. See, I never managed to find my way to School from Euston Street as everyone else seems to have done. I don't like the circle line tube and only take it when other people are traveling with me. I usually take the central line and get off at goodge street and walk to school from there (Which really does make a lot more sense as it's a shorter walk, even if you do have to transfer at Tottenham Court road...) anyway, for those of you not familiar with the London Tube system that probably made absolutely no sense. In laymens terms, I went the wrong way, got all turned around and it took me an our of sweat and tears to finally find Gordon Square. By the time I finally got to the Birkbeck house (Which used to be Virginia Wolfe's residence. English nerds have full permission to *squee* loudly here), the class had allready left. Luckily the day happened to be the day of Barack Obama's inaguration so I was able to go into the Union Pub get a glass of pepsi and watch the speech in comfort before returning home defeated.
In case you are wondering however, I have done more in London than simply get lost. I have seen big ben which is much more beautiful in real life than it ever could be in any photograph. I have also seen Poets Corner in Westminster Abby (which made the English nerd in ME *squee* quite a bit). I stood in the room where Elizabeth the Ist was burried. This sent tingles down the spine of my inner history nerd. I have also been to two west end shows: The Woman in Black which is an amazingly frightening thriller with two excelent actors and a rather mysterious actress; and Spring Awakening. The West End production of this musical was amazing beyond words. I was increadibly impressed with almost everything about it (with the exception of some very bad coreography, which made me giggle when I was supposed to be thought provoked). I have attempted to set up a bank account, been broke, had money, spent money and am now living off the generosity of friends (Namely David who took me to see the awesomeness of Spring Awakening. If you're reading this, you are amazing beyond words). I have also been told by my Shakespeare teacher that my dramatic interperetive reading of Richard III had '...the perfect combination of defiance and vulnerability,' which made me blush a lot.
As exciting as all these adventures have been, there is possibly none more exciting than the incident which occured on this otherwise ordinary Monday. Having no classes today and being rather bored with the internet (I know...shock!) I decided to take a little jaunt through the park (Hyde park that is) and bought myself a small packet of crisps on my way.
After I had bought the crisps I made my way to the lake where people are often seen to feed ducks, swans, geese, pigeons and seagulls. I love sitting here because it gives me an opprotunity to watch not only the birds, but the people feeding them who tend to be equally as fascinating. As I was making my way to an empty bench, thinking of nothing in particular, I found myself suddenly surrounded by what can only be called a gang of ducks. The largest duck at the front of the herd walked up to be, weilding his sharp beak as though it were a knife and eyed the crisps in my hand with slightly malevolent interest. He gave me a short "sqwak" and allthough I am not fluent in the duck language the way he reared his head towards the chips suggested something along the lines of: 'I could cause you discomfort with this beak; but if you share your crisps with us, we might let you pass unscathed.' And so, because the cop in our orrientation safety presentation said when someone (or in my case someduck), threatens you with violence it is best to give them what they want, I opened the bag threw crisps down for each of the malevolent birds in front of me and walked quickly as I could to the nearest available bench. Luckily, the ducks were pacified and I was not accosted further.
I was, however accosted about one hour later, by an curly haired italian who became convinced that I was the love of his life.
I was, once again lost, and had just found my way back to the Notting Hill Gate exit when I notice that a (to be fair, relatively good looking)stranger was looking at me across the way. I glance over and half smile in that friendly "Hello, I'm a naive girl from Texas way" (Which, looking back, probably didn't help). Anyway, I looked away and I could feel him still staring at me. So I looked back and smiled again, confused a couple of times. Then finally, our paths met and He smiled at me and I said "hi" in a cassual way and attempted to keep walking. He caught up to me and said "'scuse me" in a very thick italian accent and took my hand. At first I thought he only meant to introduce himself, which would have been fine, but the first words out of his mouth were:
"I love you," he then pulled me forward and kissed my cheek. I stepped back and pulled my hand away, he grabbed on to it again.
"Um...ok," I said, "But I've got to get home. I'm sorry."
I moved away and kept walking, he caught up to me again and put his arm around me. For a moment, if I was looking at it from the outside, we would have looked no different from the other couples walking along the path except for my very uneasy look. Some how, I detangled myself and said: "I really need to go home," on sudden inspiration I added, "My boyfriend's waiting for me".
"Perche," he answered blocking my way, "I love you," Then he pulled me in and kissed me on the lips. I jumped away and, as quickly as I could, moved away and kept walking along the path. Though, I could hear him saying "'scuse me," to me as he followed me.
Finally I ran into two cops who allowed me to stand near them when he walked by. He took one look at us and walked on. They said that they would talk to him and asked if I wanted to give anymore details. I told them that he kissed me, and of course they became very concerned about this and wanted to press me for more but I didn't know what else to say. They told me it was allright. That they would catch up to him and I could go to the coffee shop across the way and they would keep an eye on me.
It gave me an excuse to get a cappucino at any rate. Secure that the danger had passed, I walked back to Notting Hill Gate and made a baked potato and ended the day with home made apple cake one of the girl's Grandmother's had made for her.
So...good day all in all. And much more exciting than anything that has happend to me in life thus far. Overall, I think London and I get along very well. Allthough it baffles and confuses me many a time. Sort of like John Green with the internet or his puppy Willie with his tennis balls.
I will relay more of my adventures latter. I do hope this post wasn't too long. I should have written sooner, but I wasn't sure what to write. Today I found my inspiration and because of that, I'm afraid I couldn't just let three weeks go by without comment. Anyway, I will write again soon. Until then...may you never cross a malevolent duck (or overzealous Italian for that matter).
I have been here nearly a month and until today, while I had several exciting adventures, have not seen fit to bother you with them as they might have seemed tedious or infantile. However, lately I've found that I simply can not keep certain things to myself and must put them out into the endless void for those who are interested, bored or simply searching for an innocent soul to cyber stalk to critique and comment upon.
Because I can not provide you with an in depth analysis of my entire time spent here, I shall instead relay to you several important highlights of my month so far in summarry. I have been lost no less than 10 times in various situations. The first, understandably was on the tube with two of the other girls in my house (That is the house with the blue door in Notting Hill gate, in case any homicidal maniac is wondering...though, as it turns out,there are many houses with blue front doors in Notting hill. So, good luck finding the right one!)
The second of my lost in London adventures occured when my room mate Lexi and I were left behind on the first day of orrientation and had to find our way to the St. Giles hotel on our own; we were around 45 minutes late. Though, to be fair, we were given misleading directions several times and when we arrived at orrientation, we hadn't missed much. (Also, we were not the last ones to arrive).
The last and possibly most traumatic of my 'lost' experiences occured when I was attempting to find my way back to school by taking the Tube from the Globe Theater where my Shakespear class had taken a feild trip that morning. I was to meet my London in Literature class at school so that we could go to the Dickens museum together. Straight forward as this may seem; there was a problem. See, I never managed to find my way to School from Euston Street as everyone else seems to have done. I don't like the circle line tube and only take it when other people are traveling with me. I usually take the central line and get off at goodge street and walk to school from there (Which really does make a lot more sense as it's a shorter walk, even if you do have to transfer at Tottenham Court road...) anyway, for those of you not familiar with the London Tube system that probably made absolutely no sense. In laymens terms, I went the wrong way, got all turned around and it took me an our of sweat and tears to finally find Gordon Square. By the time I finally got to the Birkbeck house (Which used to be Virginia Wolfe's residence. English nerds have full permission to *squee* loudly here), the class had allready left. Luckily the day happened to be the day of Barack Obama's inaguration so I was able to go into the Union Pub get a glass of pepsi and watch the speech in comfort before returning home defeated.
In case you are wondering however, I have done more in London than simply get lost. I have seen big ben which is much more beautiful in real life than it ever could be in any photograph. I have also seen Poets Corner in Westminster Abby (which made the English nerd in ME *squee* quite a bit). I stood in the room where Elizabeth the Ist was burried. This sent tingles down the spine of my inner history nerd. I have also been to two west end shows: The Woman in Black which is an amazingly frightening thriller with two excelent actors and a rather mysterious actress; and Spring Awakening. The West End production of this musical was amazing beyond words. I was increadibly impressed with almost everything about it (with the exception of some very bad coreography, which made me giggle when I was supposed to be thought provoked). I have attempted to set up a bank account, been broke, had money, spent money and am now living off the generosity of friends (Namely David who took me to see the awesomeness of Spring Awakening. If you're reading this, you are amazing beyond words). I have also been told by my Shakespeare teacher that my dramatic interperetive reading of Richard III had '...the perfect combination of defiance and vulnerability,' which made me blush a lot.
As exciting as all these adventures have been, there is possibly none more exciting than the incident which occured on this otherwise ordinary Monday. Having no classes today and being rather bored with the internet (I know...shock!) I decided to take a little jaunt through the park (Hyde park that is) and bought myself a small packet of crisps on my way.
After I had bought the crisps I made my way to the lake where people are often seen to feed ducks, swans, geese, pigeons and seagulls. I love sitting here because it gives me an opprotunity to watch not only the birds, but the people feeding them who tend to be equally as fascinating. As I was making my way to an empty bench, thinking of nothing in particular, I found myself suddenly surrounded by what can only be called a gang of ducks. The largest duck at the front of the herd walked up to be, weilding his sharp beak as though it were a knife and eyed the crisps in my hand with slightly malevolent interest. He gave me a short "sqwak" and allthough I am not fluent in the duck language the way he reared his head towards the chips suggested something along the lines of: 'I could cause you discomfort with this beak; but if you share your crisps with us, we might let you pass unscathed.' And so, because the cop in our orrientation safety presentation said when someone (or in my case someduck), threatens you with violence it is best to give them what they want, I opened the bag threw crisps down for each of the malevolent birds in front of me and walked quickly as I could to the nearest available bench. Luckily, the ducks were pacified and I was not accosted further.
I was, however accosted about one hour later, by an curly haired italian who became convinced that I was the love of his life.
I was, once again lost, and had just found my way back to the Notting Hill Gate exit when I notice that a (to be fair, relatively good looking)stranger was looking at me across the way. I glance over and half smile in that friendly "Hello, I'm a naive girl from Texas way" (Which, looking back, probably didn't help). Anyway, I looked away and I could feel him still staring at me. So I looked back and smiled again, confused a couple of times. Then finally, our paths met and He smiled at me and I said "hi" in a cassual way and attempted to keep walking. He caught up to me and said "'scuse me" in a very thick italian accent and took my hand. At first I thought he only meant to introduce himself, which would have been fine, but the first words out of his mouth were:
"I love you," he then pulled me forward and kissed my cheek. I stepped back and pulled my hand away, he grabbed on to it again.
"Um...ok," I said, "But I've got to get home. I'm sorry."
I moved away and kept walking, he caught up to me again and put his arm around me. For a moment, if I was looking at it from the outside, we would have looked no different from the other couples walking along the path except for my very uneasy look. Some how, I detangled myself and said: "I really need to go home," on sudden inspiration I added, "My boyfriend's waiting for me".
"Perche," he answered blocking my way, "I love you," Then he pulled me in and kissed me on the lips. I jumped away and, as quickly as I could, moved away and kept walking along the path. Though, I could hear him saying "'scuse me," to me as he followed me.
Finally I ran into two cops who allowed me to stand near them when he walked by. He took one look at us and walked on. They said that they would talk to him and asked if I wanted to give anymore details. I told them that he kissed me, and of course they became very concerned about this and wanted to press me for more but I didn't know what else to say. They told me it was allright. That they would catch up to him and I could go to the coffee shop across the way and they would keep an eye on me.
It gave me an excuse to get a cappucino at any rate. Secure that the danger had passed, I walked back to Notting Hill Gate and made a baked potato and ended the day with home made apple cake one of the girl's Grandmother's had made for her.
So...good day all in all. And much more exciting than anything that has happend to me in life thus far. Overall, I think London and I get along very well. Allthough it baffles and confuses me many a time. Sort of like John Green with the internet or his puppy Willie with his tennis balls.
I will relay more of my adventures latter. I do hope this post wasn't too long. I should have written sooner, but I wasn't sure what to write. Today I found my inspiration and because of that, I'm afraid I couldn't just let three weeks go by without comment. Anyway, I will write again soon. Until then...may you never cross a malevolent duck (or overzealous Italian for that matter).
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