I don’t know if everyone out there is familiar with Alan Ginsburg’s (sp?) Howl. It’s an amazing poem filled with clever rhetoric that he uses to comment on the atrocities of society in the 60s when he was a young Beatnik. Well, what I am about to give to you is a less poetic, less rhetorically demanding piece of “poetry” where in I comment not on the problems with society but on the problems with Syracuse University in Florence: SUF. Enjoy. Parental advisory is advised. Sensitive ears turn away.
I am fucking sick and tired of all this bullshit. It’s official, we have hit the one month remaining on the program and I regrettably find myself counting down the days because never in my life have I ever been so upset with an educational system. Before I begin, I just want to say that I didn’t come on this program to do homework with all of my spare time. No one in their right mind would want to do that with an entire semester living in a country abroad. No. But, I did expect some sort of mental stimulation. Sometime. I don’t think it’s too much to ask to go to class and be challenged. To sit down and have one of those amazing days where you are riveted because your mind is being blown and you have to sit and think out paradoxes or some other problem. But the fact that I feel that I haven’t gained any useful skills, and possessed but a small amount of extra knowledge gained is inexcusable. I have spent my last two years at Whitman College being bombarded with unbelievable amounts of stress and homework. I study for hours for exams and get Cs and Ds. I spend days on a paper, producing something I am so proud of, to find myself barely pulling through with a B. I have gotten used to finishing at the bottom of each of my classes because I am surrounded with students who WANT TO LEARN. Want to learn. Who would want to learn anything while studying abroad? That is the general attitude of the students and the classes match that attitude to the t. Students skip weeks of class on end and it doesn’t matter because they know that they don’t need the lecture material to succeed in the class. I know this too, but there is some scrap of, let’s call it self-motivation in me that prevents me from being able to skip classes and pour as much effort into a class as I can physically muster. It sucks. I wish I wasn’t that interested in my education, but I just can’t help it. I feel that since I am paying some exorbitant some of money to come learn here, I could at least be learning something. As it stands, I have lost a semester of my Whitman education by coming to Italy. On paper, it would appear that I could have some of my semester salvaged through my extra-curricular activities: basketball, soccer, the play. Well, I ended up having to stop playing basketball with the team because the play takes up too much of my time. This would be okay except the play is a godforsaken joke and the time I spend there is like having teeth pulled. And I feel terrible for saying that because our director is such a sweet man, he’s just terrible. He talks and talks and never lets us just act. He gives us line readings every two seconds and does everything they teach you in high school directing that you shouldn’t do. But he is a brilliant man (PHD from Yale!) and you can’t deny his passion for the theatre. It just needs to be re-assessed. School is terrible. This rehearsal process is gearing up to be the worst play I’ve ever been a part of (and I’ve been a part of some pretty shitty plays). The question is whether or not I have gained anything by being in Italy and living amongst Italians for two and a half months, and I think the answer is yes. Which is the only reason I’m not packing my bags and heading home. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, my favorite part of this experience so far is the home stay. My host mama makes some bomb-ass food. Incidentally, tonight was pizza night again and I almost passed out with joy and contentedness. My home stay and my seven amazing friends are what keep me going. But this monologular (that’s a word, don’t worry) complaint of mine is supposed to be completely negative, so let me keep ranting (you thought I was almost done, didn’t you? Suckas!)
But back to the students of this program. I have never seen such disrespectful, idiotic and scantily clad young people in my entire life. This makes me sound like an old man, I realize, but I am an old man at heart. There’s this problem with girls in leggings. Tights. That’s all they’ll wear on their bottom halves. With Uggz (a kind of expensive, fuzzy boot that is kind of like wearing rubber-soled socks) That is not clothing! You need to wear a pair of shorts or a dress or a skirt over leggings! Stick me in a red elephant costume and call me a conservative, but last time I checked it wasn’t a competition to see whose outfit would get ruined first in rain and wind storms (which, by the way, we do have here). They sacrifice comfort for proximity of visibility of genitals. Which is weird. You can’t wear that to school! Then they get surprised when they get a cold. Case study part I. There’s a girl in a class of mine, who personifies this above-mentioned fashion statement. We’ve been in class for two months now and she still can’t count to 10 in Italian. She can’t read Italian to save her life. She rocks the leggings senza pantaloni (as we say in Italia). I don’t want to go on because it’s starting to make me sad and angry again, but the point is, how can you NOT BE ABLE TO SAY ANYTHING OR UNDERSTAND ANYTHING IN ITALIAN AFTER TAKING A CLASS FOR 2 AND A HALF MONTHS. That is unforgivable. The worst part is that there are two other students roughly at her level of Italian and they never stop to ask questions because they don’t care. They don’t care at all about learning Italian! How!? How is that possible!?! Why are you here!? Leave! You don’t deserve to be here. Stop wasting everyone else’s time. The problem is, that is roughly half the students here. Half of the 280 students. They manifest their ignorance and rudeness in other ways too, which include rudely talking back to teachers, “going to the bathroom” three times in one class and just never going to class on Thursdays, among others. Everyone here sucks. This makes my small group of friends more special and more important in maintaining my sanity.
As I said before, it sucks that because of, in my eyes, a huge failure on the part of SUF, I want to go home. Maybe academics shouldn’t be that important on a study abroad program, but they are to me and I feel cheated. That’s the bottom line. If I was on a program where all the people there wanted to do more than go to Octoberfest and ride roller coasters drunk out of their minds, I may be enjoying myself better. As it stands, school here sucks.
That’s all I have to say. Reflect on my wisdom.
-AJC
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Parigi... I mean Paris - part II
The next day, Eve and Ian both had class, so I was on my own for most of the day. I headed straight to the Eiffel Tower to actually go up. After waiting in line for 30 minutes, I realized I was in the wrong line and went to go wait in another line for another 5 minutes to buy a ticket to walk up. The ascension was terrifying. I was clinging to the rail and walking very slowly the entire time. On each level, I was able to recover. I realize that I have no problem with heights as long as I can’t see down right next to me. I don’t like to be able to look straight down. I took the elevator to the top and crammed myself into the middle of all the people to get as far away from the edge as possible. The view was somewhat compromised by a low layer of fog, but it was beginning to clear up and the view was phenomenal. I can’t recall being able to see so much of a city at one time before. It was great. I was terrified, but it was great.
When I got down, I took the metro to the Maurais, the Jewish quarter and ate some of the best freaking falafel of my life. Really phenomenal. I then ate a giant Baklava and bought some challah. After wandering through various churches and parts of the city, I met up with Eve at the Louvre and we did our best to see as much as possible in four hours. Let me just say, the Louvre is the biggest freaking building I think I’ve ever seen. You could house a small country in that freaking building. Not to mention the park in front of it that we didn’t even go to. The building itself is enormous! I still can’t believe how extensive the art is there. They had everything from Egyptian Sarcophoguses to Italian Renaissance paintings to Hammurabi’s code of laws and an Easter Island head! One of the coolest parts was Napoleon III’s rooms. They re-created part of what his palace would have looked like. There were less people there, so it was sort of like a break from all the madness of the rest of the Louvre. Oh and the Mona Lisa, way more hype than it’s worth. Not that great of a painting.
After that exhausting experience, I got Kebab with Eve and had a drink with Ian before retiring for the evening. Early the next morning I left for Amsterdam. It was among the most exhausting two days I’ve ever spent in my life. But it was amazing. My French wasn’t terrible and kept getting better as the trip went on. It ruined my Italian, however, which I am still in the process of fixing. It’s cool though.
AJC
When I got down, I took the metro to the Maurais, the Jewish quarter and ate some of the best freaking falafel of my life. Really phenomenal. I then ate a giant Baklava and bought some challah. After wandering through various churches and parts of the city, I met up with Eve at the Louvre and we did our best to see as much as possible in four hours. Let me just say, the Louvre is the biggest freaking building I think I’ve ever seen. You could house a small country in that freaking building. Not to mention the park in front of it that we didn’t even go to. The building itself is enormous! I still can’t believe how extensive the art is there. They had everything from Egyptian Sarcophoguses to Italian Renaissance paintings to Hammurabi’s code of laws and an Easter Island head! One of the coolest parts was Napoleon III’s rooms. They re-created part of what his palace would have looked like. There were less people there, so it was sort of like a break from all the madness of the rest of the Louvre. Oh and the Mona Lisa, way more hype than it’s worth. Not that great of a painting.
After that exhausting experience, I got Kebab with Eve and had a drink with Ian before retiring for the evening. Early the next morning I left for Amsterdam. It was among the most exhausting two days I’ve ever spent in my life. But it was amazing. My French wasn’t terrible and kept getting better as the trip went on. It ruined my Italian, however, which I am still in the process of fixing. It’s cool though.
AJC
Parigi... I mean Paris - part I
Paris was fantastic. After all the failure with getting to the airport and getting on the plane, my internal pessimist was clawing its way out. I expected to have everything go wrong in Paris. In spite of the fact that my flight was delayed, my theatre major friend from Whitman, Ian, stuck with me and picked me up from the Metro station at around midnight. He hadn’t told me until our meeting there that he lived in a home stay, and that I’d be staying with his host family. On our program, that is strictly forbidden. But apparently it’s okay over there. I didn’t meet any of them until the next morning. I got a pullout bed from beneath Ian’s bed. It was sick.
The next morning, we woke up and got traditional French breakfast (pastry, toast, orange juice and coffee) at a little cafe and then Ian booked it to class. Meanwhile, I met up with my friend Eve whom I played with in France. We went EVERYWHERE! In the span of eight hours, we went to:
Notre Dame
The Pantheon
Sorbonne
Luxembourg Park
Champs-Elysees/ Arc de Triomphe
Eiffel tower
Les Invalides
And much much more !
They all had French names, so some haves slipped my mind. I won’t give you a break down of each individual place, but we saw some cool stuff. The line to climb Notre Dame and later, l’arc de Triomphe were too long, but I decided to go back and wait in the line for the Eiffel Tower the next day when I was by myself.
The next morning, I met Ian’s host mama. I tried to say “Thank you very much for letting me stay at your house.” What came out was pretty much a complete jumble of French and Italian that got my point across. She later told Ian she thought I was Italian! Ha! I’ll take that any day of the week. I tried to speak French with an Italian accent the rest of the trip. That first day, Eve and I saw the Pantheon (not to be confused with the Pantheon in Rome). It was full of all sorts of famous dead people, including the tombs of Marie and Pierre Curie, Voltaire, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Alexandre Dumas, Victor Hugo and Emil Zola. There was a temporary exhibit on Emil Zola there too (in French – go figure). All the dead people were in the crypts in the bottom. On the ground floor, is an enormous, central plan structure with a gorgeous mosaic that once served as a church. Most of the walls are covered in frescoes depicting various gallantry throughout French history (Joan of Arc, and some other folks). There was also a sweet pendulum in the middle. A truly gorgeous building that should have cost me 5 euro, but Eve used her powers of guile to tell the ticket woman that we were both students of art and architecture in Paris, so we got in for free. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my travels thus far, it’s that free things are always the best things.
From there, we saw Sorbonne (which is apparently a very prestigious and famous French University) and ate baguette sandwiches in Luxembourg Park. There were flowers in bloom and birds singing and children playing with toy sail boats in the fountain. It was like a scene from a painting. So very lovely. We then made our way to the Champs Elysees where we saw a gorgeous church and then walked the entire length of the Champs Elysees, stopping only for a Crepe with Nutella (gurgly, salivating noises) and to sneak a peak at a puppet show in a park. As we walked and tried to remember all the words to the famous song, we absorbed the atmosphere and took pictures. We finally got to the Arc de Triomphe, but couldn’t for the life of us figure out how to get from the sidewalk we were on to the actual arc itself. So like any level-headed, sophisticated people would do, we decided to wait for a good moment and make a mad dash across six lanes of traffic. It was great. We didn’t even get honked at. From there, we discovered there was a seemingly secret, but in actuality, decently well-marked underground passageway to get from the arch to the other side of the street. Good to know. Probably would have been less fun anyway…
We then took metro to the Eiffel Tower, and upon seeing the line, decided to admire it from the ground. We got pictures in front of it though. That’s half the battle. We then half-walked and half-ran to Les Invalides because the skies opened up and began to pour. Les Invalides, a war veteran’s hospital/inn-turned museum, was wonderful. There were a fair amount of stained glass or something similar windows that let in a fair amount of light, but since there was this lovely rain storm, the entire enormous structure was lit mostly by the eerie glow that I later realized was coming from Napoleon Bonaparte’s tomb area. His tomb is an enormous wooden sarcophagus, roughly the size of a small bus. No joke. Surrounding the tomb is a series of sculptures and reliefs depicting Napoleon as a great Roman ruler. The effect of the darkness mixed with the brightness of Napoleon’s tomb was awe-inspiring. We then went and had one of the most amazing dinners of my life.
Fondue. Not just fondue. French fondue. The way it was meant to be. Eve and I met up with Ian, and his girlfriend, Christina (also from Whitman). We paid 18 per person for:
-1 baby bottle full of wine (not exactly sure why, just roll with it) equivalent to 2 glasses
-1 glass of sweet black-current wine served with sugar on the rim of the glass and an orange slice
- 1 appetizer tray for our group of four
- 1 huge pot of fondue – enough to make us all fairly sick and still not be finished with unlimited bread
- a bowl of fruit, which we exchanged for a fancy desert at the price of just 2 more Euro
BTE. Best thing ever. We got there right as it opened. They crammed so many tables into the room that there was no space between tables and no space between the end tables and wall. Anyone sitting on the outside of the room had to step over the table. We then walked to the Moulin Rouge and the entire red light district. Very fun. From there, we parted ways and went to sleep. I was exhausted.
To be continued...
The next morning, we woke up and got traditional French breakfast (pastry, toast, orange juice and coffee) at a little cafe and then Ian booked it to class. Meanwhile, I met up with my friend Eve whom I played with in France. We went EVERYWHERE! In the span of eight hours, we went to:
Notre Dame
The Pantheon
Sorbonne
Luxembourg Park
Champs-Elysees/ Arc de Triomphe
Eiffel tower
Les Invalides
And much much more !
They all had French names, so some haves slipped my mind. I won’t give you a break down of each individual place, but we saw some cool stuff. The line to climb Notre Dame and later, l’arc de Triomphe were too long, but I decided to go back and wait in the line for the Eiffel Tower the next day when I was by myself.
The next morning, I met Ian’s host mama. I tried to say “Thank you very much for letting me stay at your house.” What came out was pretty much a complete jumble of French and Italian that got my point across. She later told Ian she thought I was Italian! Ha! I’ll take that any day of the week. I tried to speak French with an Italian accent the rest of the trip. That first day, Eve and I saw the Pantheon (not to be confused with the Pantheon in Rome). It was full of all sorts of famous dead people, including the tombs of Marie and Pierre Curie, Voltaire, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Alexandre Dumas, Victor Hugo and Emil Zola. There was a temporary exhibit on Emil Zola there too (in French – go figure). All the dead people were in the crypts in the bottom. On the ground floor, is an enormous, central plan structure with a gorgeous mosaic that once served as a church. Most of the walls are covered in frescoes depicting various gallantry throughout French history (Joan of Arc, and some other folks). There was also a sweet pendulum in the middle. A truly gorgeous building that should have cost me 5 euro, but Eve used her powers of guile to tell the ticket woman that we were both students of art and architecture in Paris, so we got in for free. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my travels thus far, it’s that free things are always the best things.
From there, we saw Sorbonne (which is apparently a very prestigious and famous French University) and ate baguette sandwiches in Luxembourg Park. There were flowers in bloom and birds singing and children playing with toy sail boats in the fountain. It was like a scene from a painting. So very lovely. We then made our way to the Champs Elysees where we saw a gorgeous church and then walked the entire length of the Champs Elysees, stopping only for a Crepe with Nutella (gurgly, salivating noises) and to sneak a peak at a puppet show in a park. As we walked and tried to remember all the words to the famous song, we absorbed the atmosphere and took pictures. We finally got to the Arc de Triomphe, but couldn’t for the life of us figure out how to get from the sidewalk we were on to the actual arc itself. So like any level-headed, sophisticated people would do, we decided to wait for a good moment and make a mad dash across six lanes of traffic. It was great. We didn’t even get honked at. From there, we discovered there was a seemingly secret, but in actuality, decently well-marked underground passageway to get from the arch to the other side of the street. Good to know. Probably would have been less fun anyway…
We then took metro to the Eiffel Tower, and upon seeing the line, decided to admire it from the ground. We got pictures in front of it though. That’s half the battle. We then half-walked and half-ran to Les Invalides because the skies opened up and began to pour. Les Invalides, a war veteran’s hospital/inn-turned museum, was wonderful. There were a fair amount of stained glass or something similar windows that let in a fair amount of light, but since there was this lovely rain storm, the entire enormous structure was lit mostly by the eerie glow that I later realized was coming from Napoleon Bonaparte’s tomb area. His tomb is an enormous wooden sarcophagus, roughly the size of a small bus. No joke. Surrounding the tomb is a series of sculptures and reliefs depicting Napoleon as a great Roman ruler. The effect of the darkness mixed with the brightness of Napoleon’s tomb was awe-inspiring. We then went and had one of the most amazing dinners of my life.
Fondue. Not just fondue. French fondue. The way it was meant to be. Eve and I met up with Ian, and his girlfriend, Christina (also from Whitman). We paid 18 per person for:
-1 baby bottle full of wine (not exactly sure why, just roll with it) equivalent to 2 glasses
-1 glass of sweet black-current wine served with sugar on the rim of the glass and an orange slice
- 1 appetizer tray for our group of four
- 1 huge pot of fondue – enough to make us all fairly sick and still not be finished with unlimited bread
- a bowl of fruit, which we exchanged for a fancy desert at the price of just 2 more Euro
BTE. Best thing ever. We got there right as it opened. They crammed so many tables into the room that there was no space between tables and no space between the end tables and wall. Anyone sitting on the outside of the room had to step over the table. We then walked to the Moulin Rouge and the entire red light district. Very fun. From there, we parted ways and went to sleep. I was exhausted.
To be continued...
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
London town
Yo whaddup. Fall break part I. Commence.
My fall break began with waking up at the lovely hour of 5:15am so I could catch the second bus of the morning to the train station. I bought my train ticket to Pisa and barely caught the train. I sat next to some obnoxious, dumb, loud, still drunk, and ultimately unattractive American girls. I was able to pass out though, so life was good. After a plane ride, a bus ride and a tube ride, I finally made it to the flat I was staying at in London.
Those modes of transportation for that day were:
Bus
Train
Airplane
Bus shuttle
London Underground
I stayed with my lovely friends Sam and Alex who were both girls I met this summer while interning in Pittsfield, MA. They go to Ithaca and they graciously offered their hospitality to me way back in August even though I didn’t really know them super well. As it turned out, I even got to sleep in Sam’s bed because she was dating one of her flatmates, so they shared a bed and let me take hers. It was very sweet. Sam and Alex took me sight-seeing for a few hours that afternoon. We saw the enormous National Theatre and the Globe and we got gelato (British style – not so good, but cute anyway). Sam made dinner that first night and we went out for drinks where their other flatmates bought me drinks (Pims and Lemonade – odd yet delicious – like if a mojito and a hard iced tea had a lovechild). Then we went clubbing where I wasted a whole bunch of money on expensive, bad beer and then we all went home early. Sounds bad, but it was pretty fun. It was a wonderful night and I still can’t believe the unyielding extent to their gracious hospitality. Their 3 bedroom flat was small, but they welcomed me and I felt very much at home by the end of my three days in London. One of the flatmates is a magician (theatre major, gotta have a second profession, right?) and he kept doing all sorts of magic tricks for me, that I got endless enjoyment out of.
Day 2 began with sleeping in till around 10 and meeting my other friends, Max and Eve. I had met both of them on the Oregon Shakespeare Festival’s Summer Seminar for High School Juniors way back in 2005. It was lovely to see them: we did some wandering and then checked out the National Gallery and played on the giant lions in Trafalgar Square. After that, I met my ex-girlfriend Kristan and we had dinner and went to see “Six Characters in Search of an Author” (we studied it in our dramatic lit class in the spring – a truly brilliant play that everyone should see if the chance arises). We had front row seats and it was amaaaaaaaaaaaaaaazing! We then met up with Max and Eve for 9 pound cocktails at a really ritzy, loud, packed bar. The cocktails were delicious, but the atmosphere was stressful.The evening ended with falling asleep at Max’s flat.
Day 3 was probably the best day of break. It became daylight savings time and after enjoying a mostly drool-free night in Max’s supermodel roomamte’s bed, (she was away on a photoshoot – no joke) we realized we still had a chance to catch the changing of the guard because of daylight savings time. We arrived slightly late, but it was raining so we were sad, wet pandas, and the royal band wasn’t playing on account of the rain. But we saw the fuzzy hat men walking. The next part was one of the coolest things I’ve ever done. Max is part of a “Gentlemen’s Club.” Not the traditional American meaning of the word, Gentlemen’s Club, but an actual Gentlemen’s club where you sit around and drink classy drinks and smoke and play billiards. We went for lunch and I needed to bring a suit. But I didn’t have one, so I borrowed Max’s. Now, my friend Max is about 6’3” and had just recently lost a fair amount of weight. So, rolling up my pants legs, jacket sleeves and cinching up my belt (size 37 pants – I wear 31-32), we headed out and had smoked salmon club sandwiches and Darjeeling tea in the lady’s drawing room (the only room Eve was allowed in on account of her being a woman). After that, we played in the ancient library and read about silly British sports like Cricket. Then we drank Scotch in the bar and had an amazing time. Next in the amazing day, I met up with Kristan again and she had graciously waited in line at 10 am to get more theatre tickets. This time for Tom Stoppard’s original adaptation of Chekhov’s Ivanov starring Kenneth Brannagh and Johnny Depp’s 1st mate from Pirates of the Caribbean. We had standing room tickets, and we were about a mile and a half away, but it was amazing! Horribly depressingly Chekhov, but brilliant. Kenneth Brannagh is amazing. Both plays were just 10 pounds a piece. One was from the front row and one from the back row. That evening we hung out and drank a few beers with Max’s British friends. Quite fun.
The next morning, I woke up, and had traditional British breakfast with Sam and Alex, spent the morning playing in the Natural History Museum (dinosaurs are awesome) and had lunch in a cemetery with Kristan. The events that followed were among the worst of my life. I scribbled on the back of a piece of paper on my bus shuttle to the airport because I was so caught up with emotion. It reads as follows:
Dear blog,
I am writing to you on the back of my god-forsaken EasyBus Ticket. I just spent the last 45 minutes sprinting around the Marble Arch area of London with my luggage trying to chase down various godforsaken easybuses. My GFS easybus ticket says the street name (Oxford) and the tube stop (Marble Arch). I arrive with 20 minutes until departure, only to find that there are roughly 1- stops on Oxford Street that say marble Arch and about 10 mores tops on sides treets in the surroudnig area. So I started wlaking, 10 minutes passed, I started power-walking, 5 more minutes passed, I started running. I passed the same places over and over and over again: still no GFS EasyBus! I’m running in circles, adrenaline coursing through my veins, sweat pouring down my face. I was going to miss my flight! I saw three GFS easybuses that wouldn’t stop for me. I literally almost started crying. [I tried to call the phone number they gave me on the ticket, but all I got was a recording saying various traffic reports around London.] Then finally I found a bigger bus that was stopped at one of the Marble Arch bus stops [not on Oxford Street] that said Luton Airport! Apparently they work with GFS EasyBus, so my ticket was still good. All in all, that only made me 25 minutes late to the Luton airport. I think I’ll be ok, but we’ll see. I may be in any of a number of places in any number of countries. We’ll see.
It turned out that when I got to the airport, my flight was delayed 2 hours, so all of a sudden, all that worry was for nothing. I had never felt so helpless in my life though. I had no phone number to call, no internet access, no one who knew the area and time was ticking. I asked a guy who worked at the tube, two bus drivers, and a parking ticket cop. They all pointed me in different directions, none of which is where I actually ended up catching the bus! I hate stupidity!
That’s all for London. Stay tuned for Paris. Or should I say, “On continue attendre pour la deuxieme blog“.
AJC
My fall break began with waking up at the lovely hour of 5:15am so I could catch the second bus of the morning to the train station. I bought my train ticket to Pisa and barely caught the train. I sat next to some obnoxious, dumb, loud, still drunk, and ultimately unattractive American girls. I was able to pass out though, so life was good. After a plane ride, a bus ride and a tube ride, I finally made it to the flat I was staying at in London.
Those modes of transportation for that day were:
Bus
Train
Airplane
Bus shuttle
London Underground
I stayed with my lovely friends Sam and Alex who were both girls I met this summer while interning in Pittsfield, MA. They go to Ithaca and they graciously offered their hospitality to me way back in August even though I didn’t really know them super well. As it turned out, I even got to sleep in Sam’s bed because she was dating one of her flatmates, so they shared a bed and let me take hers. It was very sweet. Sam and Alex took me sight-seeing for a few hours that afternoon. We saw the enormous National Theatre and the Globe and we got gelato (British style – not so good, but cute anyway). Sam made dinner that first night and we went out for drinks where their other flatmates bought me drinks (Pims and Lemonade – odd yet delicious – like if a mojito and a hard iced tea had a lovechild). Then we went clubbing where I wasted a whole bunch of money on expensive, bad beer and then we all went home early. Sounds bad, but it was pretty fun. It was a wonderful night and I still can’t believe the unyielding extent to their gracious hospitality. Their 3 bedroom flat was small, but they welcomed me and I felt very much at home by the end of my three days in London. One of the flatmates is a magician (theatre major, gotta have a second profession, right?) and he kept doing all sorts of magic tricks for me, that I got endless enjoyment out of.
Day 2 began with sleeping in till around 10 and meeting my other friends, Max and Eve. I had met both of them on the Oregon Shakespeare Festival’s Summer Seminar for High School Juniors way back in 2005. It was lovely to see them: we did some wandering and then checked out the National Gallery and played on the giant lions in Trafalgar Square. After that, I met my ex-girlfriend Kristan and we had dinner and went to see “Six Characters in Search of an Author” (we studied it in our dramatic lit class in the spring – a truly brilliant play that everyone should see if the chance arises). We had front row seats and it was amaaaaaaaaaaaaaaazing! We then met up with Max and Eve for 9 pound cocktails at a really ritzy, loud, packed bar. The cocktails were delicious, but the atmosphere was stressful.The evening ended with falling asleep at Max’s flat.
Day 3 was probably the best day of break. It became daylight savings time and after enjoying a mostly drool-free night in Max’s supermodel roomamte’s bed, (she was away on a photoshoot – no joke) we realized we still had a chance to catch the changing of the guard because of daylight savings time. We arrived slightly late, but it was raining so we were sad, wet pandas, and the royal band wasn’t playing on account of the rain. But we saw the fuzzy hat men walking. The next part was one of the coolest things I’ve ever done. Max is part of a “Gentlemen’s Club.” Not the traditional American meaning of the word, Gentlemen’s Club, but an actual Gentlemen’s club where you sit around and drink classy drinks and smoke and play billiards. We went for lunch and I needed to bring a suit. But I didn’t have one, so I borrowed Max’s. Now, my friend Max is about 6’3” and had just recently lost a fair amount of weight. So, rolling up my pants legs, jacket sleeves and cinching up my belt (size 37 pants – I wear 31-32), we headed out and had smoked salmon club sandwiches and Darjeeling tea in the lady’s drawing room (the only room Eve was allowed in on account of her being a woman). After that, we played in the ancient library and read about silly British sports like Cricket. Then we drank Scotch in the bar and had an amazing time. Next in the amazing day, I met up with Kristan again and she had graciously waited in line at 10 am to get more theatre tickets. This time for Tom Stoppard’s original adaptation of Chekhov’s Ivanov starring Kenneth Brannagh and Johnny Depp’s 1st mate from Pirates of the Caribbean. We had standing room tickets, and we were about a mile and a half away, but it was amazing! Horribly depressingly Chekhov, but brilliant. Kenneth Brannagh is amazing. Both plays were just 10 pounds a piece. One was from the front row and one from the back row. That evening we hung out and drank a few beers with Max’s British friends. Quite fun.
The next morning, I woke up, and had traditional British breakfast with Sam and Alex, spent the morning playing in the Natural History Museum (dinosaurs are awesome) and had lunch in a cemetery with Kristan. The events that followed were among the worst of my life. I scribbled on the back of a piece of paper on my bus shuttle to the airport because I was so caught up with emotion. It reads as follows:
Dear blog,
I am writing to you on the back of my god-forsaken EasyBus Ticket. I just spent the last 45 minutes sprinting around the Marble Arch area of London with my luggage trying to chase down various godforsaken easybuses. My GFS easybus ticket says the street name (Oxford) and the tube stop (Marble Arch). I arrive with 20 minutes until departure, only to find that there are roughly 1- stops on Oxford Street that say marble Arch and about 10 mores tops on sides treets in the surroudnig area. So I started wlaking, 10 minutes passed, I started power-walking, 5 more minutes passed, I started running. I passed the same places over and over and over again: still no GFS EasyBus! I’m running in circles, adrenaline coursing through my veins, sweat pouring down my face. I was going to miss my flight! I saw three GFS easybuses that wouldn’t stop for me. I literally almost started crying. [I tried to call the phone number they gave me on the ticket, but all I got was a recording saying various traffic reports around London.] Then finally I found a bigger bus that was stopped at one of the Marble Arch bus stops [not on Oxford Street] that said Luton Airport! Apparently they work with GFS EasyBus, so my ticket was still good. All in all, that only made me 25 minutes late to the Luton airport. I think I’ll be ok, but we’ll see. I may be in any of a number of places in any number of countries. We’ll see.
It turned out that when I got to the airport, my flight was delayed 2 hours, so all of a sudden, all that worry was for nothing. I had never felt so helpless in my life though. I had no phone number to call, no internet access, no one who knew the area and time was ticking. I asked a guy who worked at the tube, two bus drivers, and a parking ticket cop. They all pointed me in different directions, none of which is where I actually ended up catching the bus! I hate stupidity!
That’s all for London. Stay tuned for Paris. Or should I say, “On continue attendre pour la deuxieme blog“.
AJC
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Fall break! Ah!
Hey all, I just got back from fall break. I'm not dead. I have a ton to blog about, but I haven't done any of it yet. Look for it some time this week. It's great to be back in Florence though!
love
Adam
love
Adam
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