As promised (Albeit late), here I will share with you a tale of the country girl once again bested by the large an multi-national city.
This particular tale takes place in Early March. On this particular early March night, I had some how been pursuaded to spend the night away from my computer, books and movies in order to interact with actual live human beings. It was Trey (one of the girl's in the house's boyfirend)'s (?) birthday and everyone was going to a club called walkabout. Tired of being the eternal recluse, I agreed to tag along.
Once I got there however, I realized that I had forgotten to bring my ID. I told the other girls to go in without me. I said that I would rush home to get it and meet them back inside in about fourty five minutes.
On the tube ride back to Notting Hill Gate, things began to get a bit interesting. I got on to the tube in a completely normal fashion and the car started moving. As soon as it did however, a young man stood up, waving a pile of CD and made a speech attempting to get people to buy them. A drunk man near him told him very politely to "shut the fuck up"(and yes, I just typed the word fuck, twice. I hear gasps of surprise). So the guy selling CD's goes off on him saying that he's trying to make a living for his wife and kids etc. Then this other guy tells the guy selling CD's not to worry about the drunk guy and the CD guy starts going off on him too telling him not to get involved. Needless to say, the entire thing exploded into a huge Tube row which would have turned into a fist fight had the stop not come up and the guy selling CDs not left in a huff.
Needless to say, the bantering back and forth reminded me a lot of Speakers Corner on Sunday mornings. Speakers corner is a place in Hyde Park where, on Sundays, anyone can stand on a soap box and make a speech and the people in the crowds watching are allowed to talk and argue back. David and I went and it's the sort of place someone practicing their debating skills might like, but not the place for two pacifist Harry Potter fans who simply want everyone to get along and understand eachother. The best part about that speakers corner trip was the people giving out free hugs at the bottom corner of the park near marbel arch. They were filled with love in a place that was so full of yelling and animosity and that was nice. But I digress...
Anyway, after my little foray into Speaker's Corner: The Underground tour, I finally arrived back at the club ID in hand. On this particular Wensday night, the club had a sale on drinks for students. Any drink was only one pound and 50 pence. Needless to say it was a very fun night. So much so that I caught the attention of a French Moracan boy in corn rolls. He was studying English here in London. We danced for a bit and he told me about this really nice pub near his flat that he would like to take me to on Thursday (I was promised live music and everything). I said I would like to go and gave him my phone number. He told me that he would call me around seven o'clock on Thursday.
He didn't. I got dressed up and waited, but he didn't call. So I got fallafel and watched blazing sadels instead. The next afternoon he texted me saying he was sorry for not calling but he was really tired on Thursday night and asked if we could do it Saturday night instead. I should have known then I suppose. But, being the nice and much too naieve girl that I am, I agreed to meet him at the Kilburn tube station on Saturday night at 7.
I got to the Tube station, he showed up at about 7:15 with one of his friends and carrying what looked like Chinese take away. He told me that we would have to stop by his appartment to drop off dinner for his room mate. Seeing nothing wrong with this I said "OK". When we got to his appartment he ushered me into his room and asked if I wanted a drink. I said I would take a coke though I was feeling slightly uneasy. Afterall, I thought that we were going out to diner at a pub. He came back with my drink and closed and locked the door to his room. Apparently "Date" in English is synonymous with "hook up" in French.
I set him straight fairly quickly. He said it was fine though he looked distinctly disappointed. We went out to a club (not the pub he had promised) with a couple of his friends. I paid my cover, but he "cleverly" got out of paying his. He bought me one drink, even though I told him that I had not had diner yet. And, while I was there, he barely said two words for me, but made sure that I was draped beneath his arm like an ornament.
Eventually, I looked down at my phone, pretended that I had missed a call, excused myself for a couple of minutes and when I came back, I told him that my friend was sick and needed me to take her home. He said "That's cool baby" (those of you who know me know how much I hate that particular "endearment"). I left and, though he continued to text me, I never spoke to him again.
Depressing as this may sound, I promise you, my life in London was filled with good things too. Not simply awkward romantic encounters with creepy European men. The next weekend was much more awesome and filled with greatness. But, that's a story for another post. Though, when I post next, I will probably be back in the States. This makes me quite sad, but...oh well. I will be back. I know for a fact that no other city in the world can attract and fascinate me as London can. It's my home and I can't truly settle in any other part of the world I don't think.
Anyway, I will be back in touch with yet more tales of my adventures from across the pond. Until then, peace be with you. (It's holy week and I felt like being...holy).
Wednesday, 8 April 2009
Friday, 3 April 2009
Hello my dear faithful readers. That is, if I have any left after having seriously neglected my duties in providing you with up to date bloggs about my mis adventures in London. Though my time here in London is comming to a close, do not dispair! I have yet more tales of heroism, creepy Europeans, oddly shaped ducks, men in kilts and tours on the underground to tell you yet.
Though, most of these took place several weeks ago and are so lengthy and wondrous that they will have to be told in blogs all their own. I'm sure you will enjoy them better that way. So, I will update continually over the next three days in order to provide you three tales (and perhaps more if time allows) of woe, friendship, daring and lostness (yes, again) in the land across the pond.
For today it seems only fitting that I should tell you that spring has seen fit to visit us in foggy England. So much so that I took a little trip a few days ago to South Bank where I bought a softserve ice cream and met a very nice young man playing something called a "hang". It's a type of precussion instrument which was invented in 2000 apparently. Everyone was out and about on the banks of the tames that day. It was nearly 60 degrees, which is very cold to you Texans I know, but for the brits, that's sun bathing weather. The sun was out, dogs were barking, and I was near my adopted home at the Globe. All was right with the world.
Of course then I had to go home in order to finish a nine page paper on Surrealism which was due the next day. Life has funny ways of distracting you. Like creating a day of perfection outside when you know you should be inside studying for a test or writing a nine page paper. It is also ironic that, just as your about to settle in for a long night of post procrastination cramming, the internet in your entire house shut down completely.
Yes, the internet, complete with my copy of the Surrealist Manifesto, copies of the Ernst painting I was critiqueing and all the sourses I found on Wikipedia were gone. Apparently someone in the house's computer caught a virus and it spread to the whole system. Needless to say, I was in a bit of a panicked state. Everyone else simply picked up and went to Mcdonalds (where they have free wi-fi). I simply gave the paper up as a bad job, set my alarm for early in the morning and went to bed. I woke up, took the saved copy of my paper to school the next morning and finished it there (with exactly one minute till the start of class).
God saved me on that one I think. Though, I also have a sneaking suspicion he may have had fun with the whole viral internet thing.
It's part of this sense of humor God has I think. He'll be very serious about the big things in life (in other words what we NEED), but when it comes to the little things (what we WANT), well...he can tease us a bit with that.
For example, my very good friend David's girlfriend recently decided that she would shave her full head of long hair completely off for charity. Now noble a cause as it may be, David was having issues with going along with it because he really, really likes long hair. Of course, being the good boyfriend he is, he was perfectly supportive and even put up a donation. But the night after she had decided to go through with it, David and I went to see an Opera entitled Dr. Automic (for more on this see the upcomming post entitled "Riding on Sondheim's Coat Tails: Failings of the Contemporary Opera world in the words of Rachel Marie Keeler"). Anyway, in the second scene of the first act, there is a rather long aria in which the main character talks extensively and poetically about his wife's hair. At intermission David turned to me and said, almost completely straight faced: "I think God's taunting me". This, I think, rather proves my point. (And I do hope David won't be horribly embarassed by my posting this story for the world to read and point and laugh at. You know I do it out of love :)).
Anyway, I think that's enough London adventure for one post. The internet's still out so the majority of us are camped out in the school lab or in Mcdonalds, (I think a few people were talking about moving their pillows, sheets etc into Mcd's so that they could sleep there as well ;)). So, internet permitting, stay tuned for more mis-london adventures which will include but are not limited to: Speaker's Corner:The tour! The Return of the European Creeper, the Trip to Edinborough, the Trip to the Land of Awesome via meeting Awesome Harry Potter people, and the Tower of London for free via a sleepy man on a Motor Bike. Until Next time my dear readers, Good fortune and bad will most certainly be yours.
Though, most of these took place several weeks ago and are so lengthy and wondrous that they will have to be told in blogs all their own. I'm sure you will enjoy them better that way. So, I will update continually over the next three days in order to provide you three tales (and perhaps more if time allows) of woe, friendship, daring and lostness (yes, again) in the land across the pond.
For today it seems only fitting that I should tell you that spring has seen fit to visit us in foggy England. So much so that I took a little trip a few days ago to South Bank where I bought a softserve ice cream and met a very nice young man playing something called a "hang". It's a type of precussion instrument which was invented in 2000 apparently. Everyone was out and about on the banks of the tames that day. It was nearly 60 degrees, which is very cold to you Texans I know, but for the brits, that's sun bathing weather. The sun was out, dogs were barking, and I was near my adopted home at the Globe. All was right with the world.
Of course then I had to go home in order to finish a nine page paper on Surrealism which was due the next day. Life has funny ways of distracting you. Like creating a day of perfection outside when you know you should be inside studying for a test or writing a nine page paper. It is also ironic that, just as your about to settle in for a long night of post procrastination cramming, the internet in your entire house shut down completely.
Yes, the internet, complete with my copy of the Surrealist Manifesto, copies of the Ernst painting I was critiqueing and all the sourses I found on Wikipedia were gone. Apparently someone in the house's computer caught a virus and it spread to the whole system. Needless to say, I was in a bit of a panicked state. Everyone else simply picked up and went to Mcdonalds (where they have free wi-fi). I simply gave the paper up as a bad job, set my alarm for early in the morning and went to bed. I woke up, took the saved copy of my paper to school the next morning and finished it there (with exactly one minute till the start of class).
God saved me on that one I think. Though, I also have a sneaking suspicion he may have had fun with the whole viral internet thing.
It's part of this sense of humor God has I think. He'll be very serious about the big things in life (in other words what we NEED), but when it comes to the little things (what we WANT), well...he can tease us a bit with that.
For example, my very good friend David's girlfriend recently decided that she would shave her full head of long hair completely off for charity. Now noble a cause as it may be, David was having issues with going along with it because he really, really likes long hair. Of course, being the good boyfriend he is, he was perfectly supportive and even put up a donation. But the night after she had decided to go through with it, David and I went to see an Opera entitled Dr. Automic (for more on this see the upcomming post entitled "Riding on Sondheim's Coat Tails: Failings of the Contemporary Opera world in the words of Rachel Marie Keeler"). Anyway, in the second scene of the first act, there is a rather long aria in which the main character talks extensively and poetically about his wife's hair. At intermission David turned to me and said, almost completely straight faced: "I think God's taunting me". This, I think, rather proves my point. (And I do hope David won't be horribly embarassed by my posting this story for the world to read and point and laugh at. You know I do it out of love :)).
Anyway, I think that's enough London adventure for one post. The internet's still out so the majority of us are camped out in the school lab or in Mcdonalds, (I think a few people were talking about moving their pillows, sheets etc into Mcd's so that they could sleep there as well ;)). So, internet permitting, stay tuned for more mis-london adventures which will include but are not limited to: Speaker's Corner:The tour! The Return of the European Creeper, the Trip to Edinborough, the Trip to the Land of Awesome via meeting Awesome Harry Potter people, and the Tower of London for free via a sleepy man on a Motor Bike. Until Next time my dear readers, Good fortune and bad will most certainly be yours.
Thursday, 12 February 2009
Snow days, Startrek, Sheffeild (Well, Rottherham really) and otherthings I like which start with "S"
I have returned my dear faithful blog readers, after a prolonged absence with more lessons learned from across the pond.
Before any of said lessons are listed, however, it should be said that at the begining of February. Before my Birthday as well as my trip to Rotterham, it snowed in London. And I don't just mean the little snowy flakes we get in Texas. I woke up Monday Morning, looked out my window and imediately believed that I had magically been transported to the north pole over night.
The back garden was completely white with untouched snow. White snowflakes lined the trees and the snow was still softly falling to the frozen ground. (Awww. How quaint).
The halls in Pembridge Gardens were soon bustling with the news that all the tube lines were closed due to the snow and that School had been cancelled. The school thing was of very little consoquence to me as I do not have school on Mondays. However, what was of use to me was the added ammount of people who could be coercsed into helping me make my first snow man.
Yes. I have accheived a life long dream and created a snow man! (for pictures see facebook).
Then, of course, Lexi and Steve knocked both of our snowmen to the groun in a sort of football tackle menuver that I was too chicken to attempt.
We didn't last long after that. People started getting cold and hungry, so we made our way from Hyde park back to the house. (Where I made a snow angel in the back garden. Also a first :)).
It continued to snow most of that day and only subsided at about 6 o'clock that evening. I prayed earnestly that snow would cover the ground on Tuesday as well (mostly so that I would not have to turn in my critical analysis paper which was due).
Unfortunately, by Tuesday morning most of the snow had melted.
However, I had another reason to smile. True it was alomost a week away, but, I was busy preparing for the above mentioned trip to Rotterham to see David.
Since that time, (And, to be honest, it has been over a month since that time), I have learned several lessons which could only possibly be gained by living in London. I shall now relate these to you in a very long, albeit necesarry blog post.
Since everyone on facebook seems to be so fond of making lists of 25 things (What these things are depends up on the whims of the week apparently), I shall make these lessons up into a 25 list of my own.
Lesson #1. England truly is the land of Hobbits: This was being cemented in my mind as David's Mother kept plying me with massive ammounts of food durring my visit to their house, lest I wither away before her eyes. Even our five mile hike in the peak district near Sheffeild was accompanied by six cheese sandwhiches, 7 or 8 hard boiled eggs, five string cheese packets, four sausage rolls, two toasted rolls with butter, and four packets of capri sun fruit drinks (which brought be back to the days of elementary school and packed lunches).
Lesson #2. Never go to Portabello Market on a Satruday. (Even for delicious Crepes)- Really it's not worth it. The crowds are so thick that you can't see anything the vendors are selling anyway, and even when you do see something you might like, you can't linger over the purchase because someone else will, undoubtedly be shoving you along in order to get to the next stand so that they can be shoved along by someone who simply wants to get home. Not nearly as much fun as it's made out to be.
Lesson #3. When in London, see David Wood for first run theater tickets- I hope he doesn't mind that I'm essentially opening him up to all sorts of nattering from people at Schreiner and else where who read this blog but I do have to brag on him a bit about this. 35 pounds for fourth row, stall, tickets to Wicked! Those were increadibly good seats and normally go for 50 pounds and upwards. But, apparently, there is no task too difficult for David to handle. (At least not when it comes to getting theater tickets ;))
Lesson #4. When in london see Wicked!: This is a must. I don't care what it takes, even if you have to bribe a small child with a pony in exchange for her seat or mug a rich woman wearing fur (In this case she'd deserve it. She can go see Wicked any other night). You MUST go to see this show. The music is amazing (obviously), the tech was absolutely increadible and the cast in London was excellent. I'm really starting to think that the acting here (at least in West End), is better than it is back home. (Though Broadway still has the corner on voice I think. The singing has been slightly weak in comparison to shows that I've seen in New York, but the acting makes up for it I think). This reminds me of my next point.
Lesson #5. Opera is always better when performed in the vernacular- I know there are those of you out there who will disagree with me *coughdavidcough* but hear me out. David and I went to see La Boheme at the English National Opera, which is famous for only performing Operas in English. I don't know about David but I enjoyed it ten times more than I have when I've seen it in Italian. And, I think the audience connects to the work more quickly when they are not distracted by language. Not to mention it's much easier for a singer not to have to learn a whole nother language only to sing one role. The subtext and character are much easier to understand when we are all on the same page in terms of language. And while I still had a few issues with acting and the overall staging, I enjoyed it thoroughly and can't wait to see Dr. Atomic there on March 20th.
Lesson #6. Check the post- allright, as some of you may know, I've been very worried about my student tube card which I waited two weeks for and still hadn't come. Well, last Monday, I learned that it arrived at the time the Tube company said it would, I've just been checking the wrong cubby for my mail. Needless to say, I now have two tube cards, one which was cancelled because I called and told them that it hadn't arrived when it really had. Just goes to show you; stupidity doesn't pay.
Lesson #7. Star Trek rocks-I know I'm the only (true) nerd in the house. But I'm proud of this fact. Thus, I will continue to watch Star Trek:The Next Generation at four o'clock everyday, when I can. And no, I don't really care that you don't like it or don't "get" it. I don't get "E news" or "The Newlyweds" but I don't complain when you watch those. You'll just have to live with it. I don't know why I'm so defensive about this. But I am.
Lesson #8- Harry Potter people also rock- Because of a Harry Potter meet up group, I now can get into the tower of London for free! Also, I can go to kareoke bars and dance with other nerds who like musical theater too! It's a great time to love Harry Potter.
Lesson #9. Westminster is the most beautiful place in the world to be at Sunset-I went to the evensong service there on Sunday and I took pictures, but, you'd have to go there yourself to really understand. Sorry!
Lesson #10. Being normal is highly overrated- I'm a book nerd. I don't have money. I'm socially awkward. I spout random information into conversations which I'm not necesarrily involved in, just because I hate for people to have the wrong information. I don't know what Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes' child looks like nor to I particularly care. I don't speak when I don't have something interesting to say. I don't straighten my hair or wear makeup. I don't go out and get wasted. In fact, I don't like alchohol at all. I don't like loud clubs. I don't like crowded spaces. I like Opera, jazz, folk, musical theater and classic rock. I don't have massive ammounts of money to spend, even though I am in a different country. I read...not magazines or newspapers, but books. And not for class, for my own pleasure. I am, in short, odd. And do you know what? I like it that way. Being like everyone else is boring.
I shall leave you, my dear readers, with that little semi epiphany. Until next time: "Live long and prosper".
Before any of said lessons are listed, however, it should be said that at the begining of February. Before my Birthday as well as my trip to Rotterham, it snowed in London. And I don't just mean the little snowy flakes we get in Texas. I woke up Monday Morning, looked out my window and imediately believed that I had magically been transported to the north pole over night.
The back garden was completely white with untouched snow. White snowflakes lined the trees and the snow was still softly falling to the frozen ground. (Awww. How quaint).
The halls in Pembridge Gardens were soon bustling with the news that all the tube lines were closed due to the snow and that School had been cancelled. The school thing was of very little consoquence to me as I do not have school on Mondays. However, what was of use to me was the added ammount of people who could be coercsed into helping me make my first snow man.
Yes. I have accheived a life long dream and created a snow man! (for pictures see facebook).
Then, of course, Lexi and Steve knocked both of our snowmen to the groun in a sort of football tackle menuver that I was too chicken to attempt.
We didn't last long after that. People started getting cold and hungry, so we made our way from Hyde park back to the house. (Where I made a snow angel in the back garden. Also a first :)).
It continued to snow most of that day and only subsided at about 6 o'clock that evening. I prayed earnestly that snow would cover the ground on Tuesday as well (mostly so that I would not have to turn in my critical analysis paper which was due).
Unfortunately, by Tuesday morning most of the snow had melted.
However, I had another reason to smile. True it was alomost a week away, but, I was busy preparing for the above mentioned trip to Rotterham to see David.
Since that time, (And, to be honest, it has been over a month since that time), I have learned several lessons which could only possibly be gained by living in London. I shall now relate these to you in a very long, albeit necesarry blog post.
Since everyone on facebook seems to be so fond of making lists of 25 things (What these things are depends up on the whims of the week apparently), I shall make these lessons up into a 25 list of my own.
Lesson #1. England truly is the land of Hobbits: This was being cemented in my mind as David's Mother kept plying me with massive ammounts of food durring my visit to their house, lest I wither away before her eyes. Even our five mile hike in the peak district near Sheffeild was accompanied by six cheese sandwhiches, 7 or 8 hard boiled eggs, five string cheese packets, four sausage rolls, two toasted rolls with butter, and four packets of capri sun fruit drinks (which brought be back to the days of elementary school and packed lunches).
Lesson #2. Never go to Portabello Market on a Satruday. (Even for delicious Crepes)- Really it's not worth it. The crowds are so thick that you can't see anything the vendors are selling anyway, and even when you do see something you might like, you can't linger over the purchase because someone else will, undoubtedly be shoving you along in order to get to the next stand so that they can be shoved along by someone who simply wants to get home. Not nearly as much fun as it's made out to be.
Lesson #3. When in London, see David Wood for first run theater tickets- I hope he doesn't mind that I'm essentially opening him up to all sorts of nattering from people at Schreiner and else where who read this blog but I do have to brag on him a bit about this. 35 pounds for fourth row, stall, tickets to Wicked! Those were increadibly good seats and normally go for 50 pounds and upwards. But, apparently, there is no task too difficult for David to handle. (At least not when it comes to getting theater tickets ;))
Lesson #4. When in london see Wicked!: This is a must. I don't care what it takes, even if you have to bribe a small child with a pony in exchange for her seat or mug a rich woman wearing fur (In this case she'd deserve it. She can go see Wicked any other night). You MUST go to see this show. The music is amazing (obviously), the tech was absolutely increadible and the cast in London was excellent. I'm really starting to think that the acting here (at least in West End), is better than it is back home. (Though Broadway still has the corner on voice I think. The singing has been slightly weak in comparison to shows that I've seen in New York, but the acting makes up for it I think). This reminds me of my next point.
Lesson #5. Opera is always better when performed in the vernacular- I know there are those of you out there who will disagree with me *coughdavidcough* but hear me out. David and I went to see La Boheme at the English National Opera, which is famous for only performing Operas in English. I don't know about David but I enjoyed it ten times more than I have when I've seen it in Italian. And, I think the audience connects to the work more quickly when they are not distracted by language. Not to mention it's much easier for a singer not to have to learn a whole nother language only to sing one role. The subtext and character are much easier to understand when we are all on the same page in terms of language. And while I still had a few issues with acting and the overall staging, I enjoyed it thoroughly and can't wait to see Dr. Atomic there on March 20th.
Lesson #6. Check the post- allright, as some of you may know, I've been very worried about my student tube card which I waited two weeks for and still hadn't come. Well, last Monday, I learned that it arrived at the time the Tube company said it would, I've just been checking the wrong cubby for my mail. Needless to say, I now have two tube cards, one which was cancelled because I called and told them that it hadn't arrived when it really had. Just goes to show you; stupidity doesn't pay.
Lesson #7. Star Trek rocks-I know I'm the only (true) nerd in the house. But I'm proud of this fact. Thus, I will continue to watch Star Trek:The Next Generation at four o'clock everyday, when I can. And no, I don't really care that you don't like it or don't "get" it. I don't get "E news" or "The Newlyweds" but I don't complain when you watch those. You'll just have to live with it. I don't know why I'm so defensive about this. But I am.
Lesson #8- Harry Potter people also rock- Because of a Harry Potter meet up group, I now can get into the tower of London for free! Also, I can go to kareoke bars and dance with other nerds who like musical theater too! It's a great time to love Harry Potter.
Lesson #9. Westminster is the most beautiful place in the world to be at Sunset-I went to the evensong service there on Sunday and I took pictures, but, you'd have to go there yourself to really understand. Sorry!
Lesson #10. Being normal is highly overrated- I'm a book nerd. I don't have money. I'm socially awkward. I spout random information into conversations which I'm not necesarrily involved in, just because I hate for people to have the wrong information. I don't know what Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes' child looks like nor to I particularly care. I don't speak when I don't have something interesting to say. I don't straighten my hair or wear makeup. I don't go out and get wasted. In fact, I don't like alchohol at all. I don't like loud clubs. I don't like crowded spaces. I like Opera, jazz, folk, musical theater and classic rock. I don't have massive ammounts of money to spend, even though I am in a different country. I read...not magazines or newspapers, but books. And not for class, for my own pleasure. I am, in short, odd. And do you know what? I like it that way. Being like everyone else is boring.
I shall leave you, my dear readers, with that little semi epiphany. Until next time: "Live long and prosper".
Saturday, 31 January 2009
An Abundance of Creepers
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!
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!
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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