The City of Light

My Week in Paris

Day One
Chartres Cathedral
Chartres's unique original stained glass and its congruent style make it an anomaly among Gothic cathedrals. Our tour guide studied Chartres for over fifty years and continues to be intellectually stimulated by this brilliant church. Our guide presented a brief glimpse into the importance of stain glass windows; medieval cathedrals use elegant symbolism in a colorful and pictorial manner that all people understand.

Eiffel Tower

I'm assuming that this European Union flag decor is temporary; I hope it is. The Eiffel Tower never excited me or entered my romantic daydreams... but it's stunning in person. Skyscrapers at ninety degree angle shooting upwards destroys your perspective; the Eiffel Towers slow slopping angles allow the eye to understand its towering height.

Day Two

Versailles
“I have seen enough mansions and gardens to last me a baroque lifetime”
- Lauren Call

My Versailles experience suffered from a modern art exhibit that displayed artwork in every room of Jeff Koons. If you have never heard of him…you’re lucky. Jeff Koons envisioned the porcelain statue of Michael Jackson and subsequently Michael Jackson is one of the largest statues of porcelain in the world. Not only did it disturb us, but it covered up the Bernini statue behind it.

Rodin Museum

Thinking..

Champs-Elysees
Strolling down the wide sidewalks of the Champs-Elysees you pass world renowned designers.

Arc d'Triomphe
Traffic roars around the Arc d’Triomphe as the major roads of Paris break siege on the monument. We climbed to the top to look out on the city of Paris at dusk and waited until night fell and the Eiffel Tower sparkled on the hour. Above the city you see the organized streets of Paris which differs with the mangled streets of London. Paris is magical from the sky!

Day Three: Museum Day

Louvre

I found the Louvre too overwhelming; you have to sift through mediocre work to find the masterpieces. If you spent thirty minutes at every piece of art at the Louvre it would take you three months to view everything; twelve miles of artwork!

Mona Lisa Smile
We patiently stood in line waiting for the Louvre to open. The flood gates opened and we ran past the Asian tourists to visit the secretive lady: the Mona Lisa. If you Google the image of the Mona Lisa you will have a more personal connection with her than I did (a three inch thick glass case protects the lady, three security guards armed and willing to take you out if you breath to closely and a barrier about twenty feet away). Everyone prepared me for her small size, but with the distance it was impossible to even see if she was frowning or smiling.

Musee d’Orsay
Most likely my favorite museum in Paris is the Musee d’Orsay. The renovated railway stations houses a fantastic collection of impressionist paintings.

Musee d'Orangerie
While going blind, Monet accomplished a magnificent feat by painting large canvases to be housed in a museum: Musee d’Orangerie. You sit in a stark white circular room enclosed by Monet’s famous water lilies; the perfect environment.

Day Four

Notre Dame
Notre Dome sits on an island (no one ever told me)! We peered at the top to see the famous gargoyle who cradles his face in his hands but we did not see the hunchback!

Shakespeare and Co.

My favorite bookstore in the whole world! I walked in the charming store to hear Beirut playing softly in the background! Could it be anymore perfect? This bookstore started as a library by an English women who loaned out English books to the Lost Generation writers: Gertrude Stein, Hemingway and James Joyce. Today it continues to lend out beautiful old books and house budding young authors. When you walk upstairs you see the makeshift beds of these young authors and one of them even shaved while we browsed the shelves. Also, they sell new and used books! It's a brilliant and wonderful place!

Catacombs
It’s a bit random; most people do not imagine bones when they think of Paris. We decided walking beneath Paris surrounded by dead bones sounded adventurous and different. Ironically Becky freaked out the first few minutes before the bones began; we offered to hold her hand but Becky declined.

Chopin's Grave
We hopped on city bus and took a free tour of the main sites of the city and the city took shape as we connected all the different sites. We jumped off at a large cemetery with famous people buried there (Gertrude Stein, Jim Morrison, Oscar Wilde etc.) Lauren lost her camera on the bus and with tears beginning to well up in her eyes she dashed off after it. Miraculously she managed to chase down the bus and retrieve her camera! The size of the cemetery caused some problems and we could only find Chopin's grave. We placed a flower on his grave and we listened to my favorite Nocturne on my i-pod.
We purchased wonderful ice cream at a local store and then bought two baguettes and treats at a local patisserie. We transported these baguettes on the metro and ate them by the Eiffel Tower. After finishing our carb dinner we floated on the Seine on a tour boat.

Final Day in Paris
We began the day with a trek to Sacre Coeur, byzantine style Cathedral built in attempt to atone for the sins of an evil Paris. We walked from Sacre Coeur around the more peaceful and bohemian side of Paris. We walked to the studios of several impressionist painters and began to piece together the Paris that inspired them. Our walk ended at the Moulin Rouge...we did the cancan have no fear! We visited the two famous opera houses in Paris and went to the mecca of malls. I never thought a mall could rival Harrods...

After a week of carbs we were craving salt and meat and our answer was McDonald's. My meal at McDonald's was the most expensive meal of my whole entire study abroad!
We walked around the fashionable part of Paris and witnessed the expensive boutiques. Most importantly we walked through the Jewish section of town! It was on the eve of Shabbat so things were closing down, but we grabbed some Challah bread and I wished the baker Shabbat Shalom! I was ecstatic after this and grinned the rest of the day. We finished our day visiting the Pompidou for a second time...

Au revoir Paris!

Paris & London Awards
A quick glance at the city of Paris compared with the city of London

Most Attractive Men: London
Whoever tells you otherwise is crazy!

Fashion: London
The general public in London dresses with greater style than the French. Walking through the local trendy districts of Paris I began to see that the upper classes dress extremely well. However, I enjoy the crazy local fashion of London better!

Friendly and Helpful Locals: Paris and London
Some Parisians are extremely helpful while others are straight up rude. Londoners may not have the warmth of some Parisians but they are just as respectful by honoring your personal space.

Pickpocket and Beggars: Paris
It surprised me the number of beggars in Paris! Several women forced themselves on us and persistently asked for money. I was almost pick pocketed in Paris but I had the good sense to feel the hand trying to grab into my purse behind me. Have no fear, I gave him a Hillary glare (which are quite unnerving) and he tried to play it off like he ran into me. Nice try!

Pastries: Paris
No surprises there!

Cleanest River: Paris
The Thames only stands a chance against the Nile…which tells you how gross the water is in the Thames.

Art: Paris

Architecture: London
I prefer the subtle elegant style of London buildings opposed to the Baroque frilly show of Parisian architecture!

Football: Premier League (England)
Henry or Rooney? ROONEY!

There is no denying that Paris is a wonderful, beautiful city with thousands of things to see…but London still holds my undying devotion and love!

Broom War

I broke code; I laughed on the tube.
I could not help it; it was so unexpected!
The cause for my laughter: a “broom war”.

The londonpaper
I love the free, sleazy “londonpaper” handed outside the tube stops. They give major political events, fashion trends, celebrity gossip and most importantly football updates. By the time you conclude your reading you have reached your destination and avoided another boring trip on the tube. You step off the tube more informed and with helpful knowledge (like Lindsey Lohan and her British DJ girlfriend are on the rocks). My taboo laughter began with an article in the londonpaper.

Background

While in Jerusalem a guest speaker who worked for the government spoke about maintaining peace and good will among all Christian denominations in Jerusalem. Contrary to what many believe, devout Christians in Jerusalem do not always agree. While visiting holy sites Professor Seeley told us “it’s not the time to be Christian”. You need to maintain this mentality with pious pilgrims and clergy pushing and shoving to view a site. You cannot turn the other cheek, you need to throw an elbow!
Matters among Christians are especially heated when it involves the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. There are several denominations who share the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and each priest knows to the centimeter where their turf ends and the appropriate times for each denomination’s worship. Due to the tense situation mindless sweeping on another denominations stone floor in the church can lead to a “broom war”. Something very similar happened the other day and a brawl between an Armenian clergy and Greek Orthodox ensued and Israeli authorities had to pacify the flying fists. When I read this I chuckled, then I laughed hard when I saw the accompanying picture of the clergymen with their fists up.

In Memoriam

A few weeks ago small red flowers appeared on lapels throughout London; on the bomber jackets of young trendy youth, suit jackets of business men, tweed jackets of old men and even on the stained and tattered clothes of the less fortunate. What did these flowers represent? These poppies are a sign of respect for the Great War.
Growing up any veteran or war holiday translated into one thing: a day off from school. Over the past few weeks I gained a greater understanding of the devastation of sacrifice of European countries during the world wars.

Imperial War Museum
I visited the Imperial War Museum and took a refresher course on the history of these wars and crept through a recreation of the trenches.

God Save the Queen
In church we participated in a nation wide two minutes of silence. After our meeting we concluded by singing “God Save the Queen”. The song feels different when your voices merge with those who consider Elizabeth as their sovereign.

War Requiem
After World War II the demolished Coventry Cathedral was rededicated. The talented British composer, Wilfred Owen, wrote a War Requiem for the ceremony. On Sunday I went to the Royal Albert Hall for a somber performance of this piece. The music began with ghostly ringing reminiscent of church bells swinging to alarm of an attack or to mourn. The horns rich tones attempted to play a military commanding tune but were lost in dissonant chords. The dissonance conveyed the loss of control and faith in humanity.

Surviving the Blitz
At church the current holiday reminded our favorite member of her memory of grasping tightly to the cloak of a nun to escape the Blitz. The next day we had a brilliant man speak to us about his experience during the Blitz in London. He was young at the time but the emotional circumstances branded those pictures in his mind.

In Flanders Fields
Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

A London Weekend

Royal Mayor Parade
Who is the Royal Mayor? I have no clue, but he throws a wicked parade! (Wicked in the British sense and not the Biblical) A group of us stood in the rain in front of Saint Paul’s. Now there are a few differences between American and English parades.

1. Pomp & Court
Several gilded carriages worthy of Disney princesses and extremely ridiculous hats (but silly hats are standard British wardrobe)
2. Hundreds of horses and they were not associated with 4H
3. Ridiculous Outfits
Most of these outlandish outfits do not seem ridiculous because old British men are wearing them. Most of them are similar to graduation robes with huge medallions and Martin Luther Wittenberg styled hats.

Six Characters in Search of an Author
Six characters abandoned by their author demand someone to finish their story. Now I cannot relate more of the plot or you will be lost and my head will hurt. In short its metafiction dealing with reader and author relationship. I must be honest that I had little exposure to this type of prose. Luckily the girl I went with did extensive research on it. After the mind boggling existential ending we walked on the Thames and attempted to figure it all out. I have not read the play, but from what I gather it as an extremely provocative modern interpretation. All the actors were excellent. One of the main actors is the Emperor from the new Star Wars…and he also played a creepy role in the play. I’m glad I went because I would never have another opportunity to see a play like this performed so well!

Singing through Southern Wales

The Life of a Welsh Coal Miner

We began our descent three hundred feet below the ground in a rickety caged elevator pressed tightly against one another. Our headlamps were our only source of light; without them you cannot see the hand in front of your face (not even my albino white shinning hands). No cell phones, camera or watches were allowed for fear of igniting a flame that would kill us. Yet, under the morbid circumstance our Welsh coalminer guide’s humor kept us smiling.
There were some awkward moments when his jokes about his drink problem hit a little to close to home. The fact that we were Mormon stimulated the conversation. He asked if we drank, did drug etc. He confessed he did drink but he did not do drugs. However, there was this one time in Amsterdam…and he went on to tell his experience (problem was he could not remember much).
Our tour guide wanted us to sing for him. So we sang like canaries the hymn How Great Thou Art. He loved it so much he made us sing it on our way up in the elevator shaft. All of our lights were off and the palpable darkness left us in liminal space. Our voices echoed in the chasm with the elevator's rolling thunder above our heads as we sang “I hear the rolling thunder.” After we finished we saw the streams of light; we resurfaced.

Tintern Abbey

I’ll never forget stepping of the bus and at being transported into the world of Tintern Abbey. The early morning fog still loosely shrouded the ruins, while white birds fluttered from gothic arch to gothic arch. The warm colors of fall framed the building; though the leaves were warm tones, they symbolized the coming of winter and ultimate death to flowers and trees. I could not have dreamed of a better day to visit Tintern Abbey.
Of course we read Wordsworth’s poem. Afterwards our group gathered together in the middle of the Abbey and sang hymns. I do not know how long it has been those stones have heard a song…but it’s romantic to think we were the first after a few hundred years.

Church History Tour

Our church history tour was led by Peter Fag. Do not judge him for his unfortunate name. He’s a top rate tour guide bursting full of information. This tour focused on Wilford Woodruff’s missionary work in Herefordshire. The pond belongs to the Bembo Farm where the first baptisms in the area took place.

Katie pointed out that I look like Explorer Barbie and I think Becky looks like Willow.

Malvern Hill

Peter Fag told us that he had ninety year olds make this climb so we should not worry. It had me panting. I have not shame in saying this. Wilford Woodruff came here for solitude during discouraging times. In honor of him we sang (imagine that) We Thank Thee Oh God for a Prophet and the “dark clouds that hung or us” literally dissipated and streams of sunlight covered our group.

Who needs tribal dances to the rain and sun gods when all you need to do is sing a hymn?

Straddling the World & Other Activities

Greenwich is the meridian of the world. At this moment in the picture I'm straddling the eastern and western hemisphere. All I could think about was the horrible movie A Walk to Remember where Landon takes her to a state boarder so she can fulfill a dream of being in two places at once. Yes...I am really that uncultured.

Chartwell: the home of Winston Churchill.

Winter threatens our beautiful brisk mornings as we begin to see our breath vaporize in the air. Though the bitter cold begins to set in, these beautiful fall colors keep me content.

Oh, Winston! You're so charming. Your brilliant rhetoric almost made me forget about the Syke Piccot Agreement and all the other horrible British politics in the Middle East during your term as Prime Minister. (Almost...)

"A cat looks down upon a man, and a dog looks up to a man, but a pig will look a man in the eye and see his equal."

- Winston Churchill

The Men in My Life

I decided that it was time that I acknowledge and thank those men who play an important role in my life. Each contributes to my happiness in different aspects of my life. Yet, without one of them I could not function and my life would lose its meaning.

Rick Steves

Nothing makes a man more irresistible than knowledge and charming nerdiness. Rick posses all of these attractive traits. His knowledge is irreplaceable. So many instances he has saved me money and exposed me to the local world of different communities. Along with his wisdom, Rick posses the endearing geekiness. His large eighties glasses, high voice coupled with his unfailing attempts to speak the language like the locals charms me every time. While traveling I like to imagine that he accompanies me. His spirit lives on in his books. While in Wales we treated him as an individual apart of our group. Noting gave me greater pleasure. Is this love? Undoubtedly.

David Tennant

Licking his lips insanely never was sexier than when David Tennant played Barty Crouch Junior. His charisma on stage is overwhelming. Before he opened his mouth all the women in the audience were hypnotized. He may not be as attractive as Mr. Darcy but he exudes charms. He’s talented; his performances as Hamlet and Berowne have bewitched the London community. I could not place my love on a more deserving subject than this bewitching actor with a sexy Scottish accent. I would pay one hundred pounds to see him play the Prince of Denmark. Is this love? Undoubtedly.

Mr. Darcy

He represents the ideal man and every woman’s dream. I cannot do justice to his perfection. Every human flaw makes him more attractive. Jane Austen describes his figure very little so it’s his character and personality that wins our hearts. (It does help that attractive actors play him in modern movies.) Yet, this relationship is more than skin deep. This is an eternal love that has continued for hundreds of years. I owe all my impossible expectations of men to Mr. Darcy. He may have ruined my chances of accepting anything less and subsequently I will become an old maid. However, if there was ever a man that merited ruining my perception of men it’s Mr. Darcy. Is this love? Undoubtedly.



















Cristiano Ronaldo

David Beckham? Who’s David Beckham? Who cares about David Beckham when Cristiano Ronaldo’s on the pitch? He’s one of the most talented footballers in the world and he’s one of the most attractive in the business. His quick movement on the ball, rocketing headers, fantastic crosses and astounding free kicks makes me melt every time I see him play. He may be a bit of a playboy and know he is the best…but even then it adds to his charm. Also, the fact that he speaks Portuguese, one of the most romantic languages on the planet, adds to his attractiveness. He’s also a footballer which ensures a rockin body. Is this superficial love? Undoubtedly.

Honorable Mention

Young British Business Men
To the attractive British men on the tube who give me hope of marrying a successful British man. You’re fashion sense is impeccable and you provide me with something to look forward to on a boring tube ride home.

Wayne Rooney
Though you look like a monkey you’re fantastic to cheer for. I love your bulldog type style of play.

Weekend in Wales

FOR THOSE WHO DO NOT WANT TO READ ALL OF THIS OR HAVE A SHORT ATTENTION SPAN A SUMMARY IS GIVEN AT THE BOTTOM

I stepped onto the platform into strong gusts of wind and rain; I peered around only to find a nondescript “Iceland” grocery store. Skepticism and fear for the weekend took hold. This was not an ideal beginning. I already doubted the amount of fun I would experience from a weekend in northern Wales.

The Turning Point: But while walking along we saw the symbol of our future holiday in the far distance: a gorgeous castle.

Our prospects continued to rise as we caught our last train to our final destination: Llendudno. Llendudno’s a charming little town on the coast of the Irish Sea. The man who owned the hostel was named James and he is the biggest dork I have ever encountered. When writing something down he began to laugh and a string of saliva dripped onto the table (YES, he drooled Andrew Gamblin style).
We ate dinner at the local pub called the King’s Head. The pub welcomed us with a fire and eclectic decorations of antique china and beer bottles. The locals stared at us in amusement and our servers were friendly and did not cringe when we ordered waters.

On our way to the pub we spotted a concert at the church around the corner. The choir turned out is a local male choir full of hilarious Welsh men. They sang a variety of songs: American Civil war tunes, classical pieces and traditional Welsh lullabies. They were extremely witty and adorable, we quickly staked claims on surrogate grandfathers. During intermission we chatted and made friends with the lively locals.

The following morning beautifully unfolded in sunshine and we began our adventure by busing out to Snowdonia. (Thanks to Rick Steve we purchased a pass for cheap travel. We love you Rick!) When we told our bus driver we intended to climb the tallest mountain in the UK. He looked at us and then our footwear; he quickly encouraged us to skip the hike. (We later found out that mount Snowdon was the training ground for Sir Edmund Hillary in preparing for Everest.) We ended up continuing to using the buses to explore the national park and different tiny villages. By the end of the day we traveled through about half of northern Wales.

The next day we walked around our adorable home base and went up an old tram to see a spectacular view. At the beginning we were bitterly cold with a sharp wind blowing through the tram. At the top, I experienced the strongest winds ever (worse than Saqqara in Egypt!) Later that day we went to a medieval town still enclosed by walls built during the twelfth century. We trekked home in a downpour and unwound in our warm hostel watching the British version of Dancing with the Stars with hilarious old Welsh and English men.

Summary: I never expected to love Wales but by the end of the trip I was enchanted. I was won over with melodious voices, beautiful mountains and the charming and friendly manners of the Welsh people. I stormed medieval castles and walked on the forbidding hills and mountains of the wild countryside. I’m proud to be Welsh.

Spontaneous Overflow of Emotion Recollected On My Bunk

Laughter and Tears at Swan Lake

Monday night our class attended Swan Lake performed by world renowned Royal Ballet. The dancers seemed to float and leap effortlessly across the stage. The ballerina who played the Swan Queen seemed to summon the spirit of a swan (like in Hot Rod). The choreography, which remained true to the performance from the late nineteenth century, beautifully imitated the characteristic movements of swans.
During the second act, the swan queen and the prince moved in sophisticated, synchronized patterns while the virtuoso harpist played an incredible solo…and I lost it. Not only did I cry during the performance of Swan Lake, I also laughed. At the end of the ballet the Swan Queen and prince kill themselves by swimming out into a storm together. While it sounds romantic, the ballet’s portrayal was anticlimactic. Unexpectedly both jump, not to gloriously or gracefully, off a rock hidden in the corner of the stage. Apparently the rock represented a precipice over the lake. Though dead, their souls come together as they are carried on a large coach. My friend Becky mistook the Victorian carriage to be a large chicken. In her defense the extravagant set design made it difficult to distinguish.

The Magical Year of Thinking
Tonight I attended a one woman show portraying the author Joan Didion. The hour and a half monologue derived from Didion’s novel The Magical Year of Thinking. (I was skeptical because my only exposure to Didion was from an essay, Living like Weasels where she graphically describes a weasel going for the jugular.) The famous British actress impressed the audience with her acting ability, but in my opinion the language stole the show. In a stream of consciousness style, the author recreates her thought process in dealing with the death of her husband and daughter. She attempts to reveal the disparity of how we imagine anguish and actually experiencing the emotion.

Life Like A Market

I step outside my door and stroll outside into the damp fall air. I hunch my shoulders and place my hands in my pockets to insulate my body. Thankfully the chill disappears with the sun’s periodic appearances. As I walk, my strides sync with a song by Camera Obscura playing lightly on my ipod. After a few blocks I join the hordes of tourists who flock to Portobello road. Past the antiques and the swarming crowds, I reach the food section: fruit, fresh cheese, pastries and sizzling chicken. I maneuver skillfully past all the remaining tourists until I reach my heaven: a block of young designers and artists. Vintage treasurers fill up innumerable stands, each item recyclable with an artistic eye. It seems odd that such a place could bring me joy, but every Saturday as I follow this ritual I am overcome with a feeling of independence and a surge of artistic energy. There are countless people in the world who perceive and create beauty; they inspire me. I wish all life could be like a market place; each of us brings our talents and food in a simple, dignified and human manner. We pass away hours exploring, admiring and absorbing the ambience.

Fulham vs. Sunderland

Today two of my friends and I went to a football match between Sunderland and Fulham. Fulham is a local London team and Sunderland is actually where most of my family is from. Neither team is one of the top teams in the Premier League but you would never have guessed from the fans. All the seats were filled. The majority of the spectators were British men, which also was enjoyable. There was never a quiet moment; the Sunderland fans constantly chanted, sang and cheered. Now what they cheered we still are debating. At first I thought they chanted “throw away” or “Uruguay”; later we believed they were saying “Sunderland”. Not only is the atmosphere exciting, but energy of the game itself is amplified. We enjoyed ourselves and now I’m determined to see Man United play.

Stratford Upon-Avon

Stratford Upon-Avon is a splendid, quaint town with character and not entirely spoiled by tourism. Our class visited Anne Hathaway’s home and amused ourselves by picking apples whose rich colors were too tantalizing. The women held out this time, Michael, the man, caused our fall from propriety by stealing and partaking of the first fruit.

We went to Shakespeare’s birthplace which appeares contrived and dare I say…modern? We hurried to the church to pay our respects to the bard’s grave, but alas the church was closed. We consoled ourselves by walking around the brilliant church grounds.

That night we attended a fantastic production of Love’s Labor Lost. Berowne stole the show and my heart. All forty of us girls drooled as we watched the master thespian woo us while he wooed his lady. The actor’s name is David Tennant. He’s Scottish and his accent can be described in one word: sexy. For those who have not heard of him, he is Barty Crouch Junior in Harry Potter. Now why did we not think he was cute before? He is creepy in his role of Harry Potter and you have to see the man on stage to and experience his oozing charisma and charm. He also is staring in the RSC production of Hamlet with Patrick Stewart; the reviews are so positive that it is completely sold out. I would do anything for tickets, but it seems impossible. Some tickets are selling for a few hundred pounds apiece.

There are some who wonder why we continue to laud Shakespeare’s name. They find his language archaic, too difficult to be enjoyable. To those people I will say that there is a reason we continue to read Shakespeare. If you attended the performance I saw you would have instantly seen the value of his plays. Seeing a quality Shakespearean performance will transcend you! A wonderful ending to a brilliant day.

I love Shakespeare and David Tennant!

Strolling through Hyde Park on a Sunday afternoon is almost the equivalent to peeking into the window of a Londoner. A “tossed salad” of nationalities, ethnicities, social classes and age groups gather to Hyde Park with the same purpose: to peruse an activity that brings them pleasure. Each individual finds joy and comfort in different activities. (Rollerblading is one of these popular actives. This puzzles me, because for me rollerblading screams “fad of the nineties”. Yet, for whatever reason a decade later this sport is continuing strong in the United Kingdom.) These activities show persons interests and those activities that bring happiness. It is an intimate public display of a person; a very un-British characteristic.
It was a glorious day: warm and the park glowed with rich tones of the changing leaves. We stopped by speaker’s corner which never fails to excite. At speakers corner people gather around normal citizens who climb on their soap boxes and try to persuade their listeners. My favorite speaker was a Jew talking about Israel. I did not join in the heckling this time. I bit my tongue and will argue for the Palestinians’ another day; contention on Sunday is not an ideal Sabbath activity.

I must explain this picture. I am smirking because the boys behind me are fit young British men playing a shirts and skins football match. It made me extremely happy. Also, please note my bright blue vintage shoes (Portabello purchase).

Football Update

England National Team

We can now all exhale, because England has won both of thier World Cup qualifying games this week! Wayne Rooney has officially ended his international goal slump with four goals in the past two games. Even my favorite defender Ferdinand put a header in the back of the net. I’m impressed with the young Arsenal player Walcott whose energy seems boundless and his talent promising. He is also very attractive, but not like the Adonis Ronaldo. Subsequently these wins put England in an advantageous position for the forthcoming World Cup. We can only pray they will relive their World Cup glory of ’66. As the announcer said during the Kazakhstan game “Being an English supporter is not always easy, but with patience it is all worth it”.

Pub Experience

To support England I went to a pub in Covington Garden to watch one of the matches. It was crowded with old men, young men in suits, a smattering of women and all sat with a beer in hand, eyes glued to the television and mouths moving constantly. My satisfaction was complete when we celebrated together after each goal. Smoke, British men, football, beer…can you think of a better place? I cannot.

Semaphore Version of Wuthering Heights

Haworth


When we arrived at the Parsonage in Haworth all I could think about was the Semaphore Version of Wuthering Heights by Monty Python. Thier arms waving about frantically accross the moores to communicate "O! Heathcliff!" "Oh! Cathy!"

Seeing the Bronte sisters home explains a lot of questions. For example, why are the Bronte novles dark and full of Byronic heros? Answer: They lived by a old gothic church, moores and graveyard. The real question now is how you could be normal living in these circumstances.

Katie and I enjoyed truding through the high grasses in the graveyard looking at the names and dates on the graves.

Winking Choir Boys

This story is not my own. I wish it was…but alas the copyright belongs to my hilarious friend Becky Hayes.

Our class attended Evensong at Christ Church in Oxford. When the choir boys solemnly entered the center aisle, Becky stifled her laughter as she pictured the flagellant monks in Monty Python chanting “Pie Iesu Domine, Dona Eis Requiem” and then hitting their foreheads with a piece of wood. Now I’m using the term “choir boy” but in truth these singers were not boys (even though many of them sang as high as little boys). Many of them we believe are students at Oxford. Now we conducted research (aka wikipedia) and we are certain that these boys are not celibate and the only requirement besides talent is to be a member of the Anglican Church. Now some of the choir boys stood across from Becky. Highly amused, she stared at the choir boys and caught the attention of one of them. Their eyes locked. Fortunately he was not the countertenor but sang the masculine role of the bass. Unfortunately his coif resembled the shaggy parted look of the nineties. Due to the less than ideal hair style, in order to see his music he had to run his fingers through his hair. After their eyes locked he winked at her. Yes, the choir boy winked at Becky. Becky was taken aback. She looked behind her sure that he must be winking at one of the “cute” girls in the group. The only person behind her was the only boy in our group, Michael. This convinced Becky that he was indeed winking at her. (I believe this is debatable…he could have been winking at Michael; he is a choir boy after all.) Becky began to laugh and he made eye contact with her and also began to laugh. However he focused himself for most of the remainder of the evensong as he was required to sing. Yet while exiting the building he winked one more time at Becky. From this story I have come to the conclusion that some of the choir boys are a bit more pious than others. Also, some are more prone to flirtation winks while performing their sacred duty to God.

Side Note: Becky is disappointed because she found counter tenor to be the most attractive of the choir, but not as flirtatious as others. Also, this picture is the winking choir boy. We searched the website and seeing his hair there was not mistaking him.

Coronation Chair: A Parody

I went to Westminster Abbey and I had to write a "Field Study Report". Field Study Reports are annoying papers that prove students went to an assigned place and that we gleaned some intellectual insight from the experience. I detest these small, informal essays that we have to write so often. I am bored with them...and so I attempted to entertain myself. When I went to Westminster Abbey I decided to write on the Coronation chair and how it symbolizes the genius of England. At the end of my write up I amused myself with the following parody:

so much depends
upon


a wood coronation
chair


tattered with royal
use


beside the abbey
altar.

Andrew Gamblin & Rembrandt

Friday I visited the Wallace Collection and focused on a few paintings of Dutch painters during the Boruque. Of course this included the infamous Rembrandt. Here is one of the many thoughts that I had while viewing this collection.

I’m standing in front of one of the many Rembrandt self portraits and a similar feeling comes over me when standing next to Andrew. Rembrandt’s precision and representation of detail, a northern trait to be sure, displays every hair. Many of these hairs resemble Andrew when trying to grow a scant moustache. I almost began to prep my fingers to pluck the distracting scraggly hairs on Rembrandt's chin. I believe this reaction paints (no pun intended) Rembrandts amazing talent for realism and attention to detail. Not only does he meticulously paint the hairs on his coat, head, eyebrows but even wrinkles. The wrinkles and disquietude of the eyes pierce the viewer. He captured his own insecurities for the world to see; a brave man.






Netscher, The Lacemaker

This was my favorite painting.

Blood and Beefeaters

Five Reasons Beefeaters are Brilliant
1. They are British
2. They wear fantastic uniforms
3. They have been an institution for 900 years
4. They live in the Tower of London
5. They are hilarious

Beefeater Quote of the Day
To Americans: “All of this could have been yours...if you just paid your taxes on time”

Hogwarts

A few years ago I asked my mother if she would allow me to go to Hogwarts if they accepted me. Hogwarts students receive their acceptance letters on their eleventh birthday and I have just celebrated my twentieth, so I have come to grips with the fact that I’m just not magical enough to enter the realm of my favorite school. My mother and father passed on their muggle genes and ruined my future as a wonderful witch. Though this fact has been difficult to swallow I have opted for the next best thing: Oxford. They filmed many of the scenes for the Harry Potter movies at Christ Church at Oxford. J.K. Rowling believes Oxford to be a great representation, with our mere muggle resources, for the mystical world of unicorns, three headed dogs and wizards. The fact that C.S. Lewis, JRR Tolkien’s and Lewis Carol graduated there is a testament to the magical atmosphere of the college. Many of the inspirations for their mythical worlds derived from their surroundings at Oxford. So I must conclude that Oxford provides some of its own muggle magic. Though it cannot compare with the illustrious Hogwarts, it will have to do.