Even the New Town looks Old

Who’s done a horrible job of keeping up this blog? THIS GUY. I STILL haven’t written about Oxford, oy. Dunno if I’ll get to that, to be honest. Blargh. Not gonna lie, been having too awesome of a time to actually write anything. That and utter laziness. But I digress. Look! A real entry!

Anyway, roughly a week and a half ago, myself and Saiya embarked on a whirlwind tour of Scotland in two days. We took a night bus on Thursday night, from 11 p.m. until 8:30 ish a.m., and arrived on a cloudy morning in Edinburgh, toting our backpacks of stuff. We got a little bit lost but eventually found our way to the hostel, the Castle Rock Hostel in Old Town, Edinburgh. It’s a small, cute little building that’s right across the road from Edinburgh Castle. Legitimately directly across.

This photo was taken from next to the hostel. Yep.

Since we couldn’t get into our rooms for a while yet, we stashed our things and went exploring. We met Sir Walter Scot, up in his little Gothic tower, looked at a LOT of cashmere and wool, and climbed a mountain-hill. Yes, I said mountain-hill. It took some time and effort but the views were absolutely breath-taking. At first we just hung out around the bizarro Greek arch thing that was on top of the mountain and ogled New Town from up above.

Then we climbed to the other side... and were greeted by mountains.

It was beautiful. Just beautiful. We literally just sat there and stared for a while, and I think, for me, it finally sunk in—we’re in Scotland.

Scotland, by the way, is magnificent. I’ve never been in a place with such an infectious joy for heritage. Everywhere you go there are stores selling Scottish things, hundreds of St. Andrew saltires hanging from every window, bagpipers on every other corner—

and just... so much friendship between everyone. The town is extremely walkable, we figured it out in about half a day and we knew exactly where we were going. We wandered the Royal Mile, looking at scarves and pretending to be Scottish. Well, in my case, anyway.

As if you wouldn't buy whiskey with your name on it.

 The museums are all gorgeous and free, filled to the brim with Scottish history that I didn’t realize I didn’t know. Scotland is just kind of glossed over in history (albeit not nearly as much as Wales) and even though I’ve taken three English history courses, I learned more about Scotland in those two days than I have up until that point. In addition to the beautiful museums, we also had beautiful churches and a gorgeous castle on top of a hill, looking out over all of Edinburgh, in all its Gothic glory.

Although the nightlife was something to be desired, it was a really awesome trip. Also, I had haggis. Haggis is quite delicious. And yes, I am aware of what it is. Still delicious. They don’t serve it to you looking like that, and even if they did, well... probably still would eat it.

Haggis, neeps and tatties.

Maybe if I had actually written this after I went, I would have been able to talk more about it. It was beautiful, everything was delicious, the nightlife was... eh but the hostel was nice, at least? But the bus ride was awful. Awful but worth it. 

In Flanders Fields, the Poppies Blow -- Ieper, Belgium

I’m aware I have yet to write about Oxford, but this weekend was just... one of those weekends and I have to write about it now. Meanwhile, I’m listening to the 5^th Season of Doctor Who soundtrack and it just makes me want to go on more adventures.

Anyway, this past weekend I went to Ieper, Belgium with my WWI/WWII class, on a field trip. (Yes, you wish your field trips were this awesome.) We got up at the crack of dawn to leave Harrington Gardens for a 9:30-ish ferry across the English Channel to Calais, France, where we took a bus into the Belgian countryside. We checked into our little hostel on the edge of the city and from there... it began.

The reason for going to Belgium in this class was to see Flanders Fields, where a great deal of WWI was fought between 1915 and 1918. And by a great deal, I mean most. Ieper was a town that happened to be on the edge of the farmland that was used as the battlefield, and was utterly demolished by bombs and shells. Completely and utterly flattened, without even a tree left standing. The city was rebuilt, brick-by-brick, by way of German money, years and years after both world wars had ended, but it was eventually re-built to it’s former beauty.

And what a beauty it is.

We went into a museum dedicated to the battles of WWI, where we followed along the chaotic footsteps of the Great War. It had recreation trenches, fake bombs exploding, and there’s one room where the floor lights up, and you’re standing just inches above body parts, barbed wire, mud and poisonous gas. All fake, of course, but I jumped when I saw a hand poking out at me. It was a beautiful and sobering museum, and my entire class wandered it’s halls in a sort of awed silence at the photos and the stories we were witnessing.

Afterwards, we went to the Menin Gate, which is their Korean Wall, except about seven times as big and about a zillion times more depressing.

This is probably about 1/25th of the entire thing. And there are four of these in the entire city.

They have a ceremony to remember all the people who went missing during the first World War, where they play the European version of Taps and lay poppies everywhere. The entire town shuts down for a few minutes and there’s so much quiet you can hear the canal lapping even though there’s no wind to move the surface. It was amazing.

Afterwards, once we were properly depressed, we engaged in the local culture by drinking Belgian beer and engaging with Belgians. We had eaten a nice, fattening dinner of pasta and cheese at a local restaurant, where pasta was the only thing we could decipher on the menu because it was in Italian as opposed to being in Ducth like everything else was. I’m somewhat convinced Dutch is just a made-up language because it seems to make absolutely no sense whatsoever.

Someone just mashed a keyboard and called it language.

After a very strange night involving Jack the American, fruit-flavored beer--

Sinfully delicious. And cheap.

--and coaster maps, we went on a tour of all the cemeteries dedicated to the fallen during WWI and the battlefields that remained. We were one step ahead of big tour groups, which was thankful because they were slow-moving whenever they caught up with us. We went to a British graveyard, a German graveyard, and an Allied graveyard, all three of which had gigantic monuments and meticulously cared for gardens and greens. We went to a bio fuel plant where, smack dab in the middle, was a preserved trench from 1915, nearly exactly how it was save for the sandbags being made out of concrete for preservation reasons.

 

It smelled horrendous, it was cramped, short, awkward, and around every corner I expected to see a rat or something. I can’t even begin to imagine trench warfare, and I’ve now been inside the very same trench many men’s lives depended on.

The most amazing place we went to, however, was the last cemetery we went to, the Allied cemetery of Tyne Cot, all the way out in the cornfields. It had once been where the Germans were stationed, and where they gunned down hundreds of thousands of Allied soldiers over the course of three years, turning the beautiful fields to blood and dust.

It was one of the most incredible sights I’ve ever seen.

And every single time I saw a headstone that said “Unknown Soldier”, I thought of the Menin Gate, and how that soldier’s name was probably chiseled into the wall, never to be placed with a body.

There were several times I thought I was going to cry. You learn about these wars over in the States and they’re a very popular topic to learn about but, seeing it first-hand, in the place it was fought... it’s something else. Standing someplace and looking up at the buildings and thinking “none of this was here near 100 years ago” is kind of terrifying. A city hundreds of years old, built over centuries, developing culture and language, turned to rubble in mere days over what, exactly? It’s the same with seeing remnants of WWII; London has many buildings still damaged from the Blitz of 1940, and the Second Great Fire of 1944.

All in all, Belgium was an amazing experience, and I’m so thankful that this class exists, because I’ve never learned so much about that time period in our world’s history in my life. Ik zal terug zijn, België.

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. -John McCrae, 1915

Oh yeah. School.

So. School. That thing. That thing I’m doing here, right? Something that’s on my mind, especially as I stare at a foreboding stack of books that I probably should be reading. (Don’t worry, I’ve already read a lot.)

The first week of classes has officially passed, and this is the first day (two weeks to the day!) that I’ve had absolutely no place to be at any given time today. No trips, no class, no orientations, no haphazard hikes to a 2-mile-long market out in central London. Just me, my window, my little table and this laptop and a pile of books staring me down.

The first thing I have to say is, school here is fabulous. I don’t know if it’s the accents but, every lecture I’ve had has been captivating so far. I had eight hours of class in two days, and I think I learned more about the causes of WWI in those two days than all the other classes I’ve had on that subject combined. Learning about it from the English perspective is also interesting, considering it was much more of a threat here than it was at home. (We were too busy having a growing economy and whatnot.) And my core classes? We found a 3-hour class wasn’t long enough for all we wanted to talk about. All of the six other students are brilliant, outspoken, and always asking questions. It’s a wonderful learning environment, and I’ve learned so much about English history in the past week. My favorite thing had to be learning about the Union Jack, which was just... amazing. AMAZING. And I have three field trips this coming week. THREE. Including one to Oxford University. I know, astounding! I’m a little apprehensive to go, considering I’m not super close to anyone in my program but, I think that’s okay, because we all love history.

That’s the best part: everyone is a total dork. We were in the Monument to the Fire of 1666 and once we made it to the top (after much grumbling) we just stood in awe and stared at the surroundings. The juxtaposition of old London—old, old, Roman, the City, London—surrounded by skyscrapers, modern businesses, and soon, the tallest office In Europe—was just incredible. Myself and another girl, Alex, just stood and pointed out all the old buildings wedged between the new. Everyone was silent and staring out, just gaping. It was breathtaking. The entire walk down all we talked about was touching the walls and how old the building was beneath our fingertips. Speaking of old buildings—

This is what it looks like on the OUTSIDE.

THIS IS THE INSIDE.

Gorgeous. It used to be a house, until BU did their BU thing and bought it.

Being forced to consider history in a different way and having living history around me, I think, has made me a better observer. Saiya and I went to the Victoria and Albert Museum on Friday (NO CLASS but I had work) and we were there for two and a half hours, and we saw a grand total of two galleries. Yes, two. It’s that kind of museum. While we were there, I found myself observing things closer and trying to pick out small details that make up the entire picture. We were in the Greco-Roman areas of the museum, looking at reliefs and paintings and huge tapestries from when England was still under Rome’s control. It was incredibly beautiful and astounding all at once. Having Saiya there helped a lot, too. She’s an art history person, and her knowledge combined with her enthusiasm really made the experience a lot more rounded. I wanted to find the beautiful details that real art appreciators always pick out, and as I was looking I was also able to see the history behind everything. The little touches that light something up in a historians mind as to aha, that’s what that’s from or that’s when that took place.

Also, we got to touch really freaking old things.

AWESOME.

So, yeah, school is good. I’m researching for a paper I have due in three weeks, and weeding through the reading I have to do for all my classes tomorrow. (Still a procrastinator, no matter how interesting the classes are, heh.) Simply because yesterday, I was at the Doctor Who Experience which, as someone who knows some about Doctor Who and has only seen one season, was extremely fun. And of course, a dork can appreciate things like, say,

...standing on the ACTUAL SET of the TARDIS. Yep. Ballin’.

I’ve been listening to the same 14 songs over and over again all week. I don’t know why.

And it’s going to be really, really cold today.

My Birthday and Other Things We Did This Week

Well, it’s been one week. Just about, anyway. I’m gonna call it a week. And all I’ve learned this week is Goddamnit, I suck at navigation. (Yes, I know I addressed this in my previous blog entry, I swear this is the last time I'm going to complain about it.) Every single time I think I’ve finally understood in my mind where a street ends or a way begins, I get turned around and I’m standing in front of a restaurant with torches on the outside boasting pork in the middle of a crowded street with taxis honking at me.  Speaking of which, the cars here are going to destroy me. I thought Boston was bad; oh, no. I don’t know how many times I’ve jumped back on the curb and stared as a taxi blared around the corner at approximately a gazillion miles an hour with four or five cars close behind. Jesus, London, why are you in such a rush?

We went to Greenwich on Tuesday (aka MY BIRTHDAY), and by “we went to Greenwich” I mean we got on a ferry and were left in Greenwich. But it ended up being fun. I wasn’t all too excited about going, especially because it was rainy, but once we got there, it was beautiful. The Observatory is gorgeous, ancient and so well-constructed, and the Prime Meridian made me feel like a super villain. Like “Now I have BOTH the world’s hemispheres under my feet!” But then I just moved on and other people got to do the same thing.

I don't know why I chose to wear sandals that day.

We saw the Queen Anne’s/Queen Henrietta’s house, which was very pretty. I thought it’d be more of a house museum, with each room set up with period furniture and everything, but it was an art museum because it hadn’t been used as a house in a very long time. LAME. But it was still nice; our tour guide was American, although she had been living abroad for long enough that her accent was a little strange. But she was super friendly. We then went back to Kensington and made dinner and had cupcakes for my birthday, which was awesome. I had told Fallon back in, say, March that I wanted to do something for my birthday with her, but I never anticipated having made so many friends so quickly. Everyone on the program is so fantastic, and so nice. It boggles my mind. Two people bought me cupcakes! And Piper bought me wine!

Protip: It tastes like Franzia. 

It was a great birthday. Regardless of the fact that I’ve almost died via car several times and have gotten caught in the rain, as of this very second, a grand total of seven times since Sunday. I think I missed a couple times in my count, even.

Anyway, in addition to that other stuff I did, today my program climbed a big-ass tower and looked at an incredible view of London from the top. It was a monument to the Great Fire of 1666, and it had this incredible mural of people burning in flames and King Charles II looking like freaking God. (Propaganda is so fun, isn't it?) Unfortunately I didn't even know the class was going to be 4 hours long, let alone we were going to be traveling, so I didn't bring my camera. NONE OF US DID except Alex, so she wins the prize. I discovered on the trip there that the other girls and I in my program are all equally dorks about history and like to touch old walls and marvel at their age. We ate at Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese last night before we went out, and not only was the top portion from 1667, but apparently the bar in the basement had a foundation of a monastery from the 13th century. Margaret posed an idea that Henry VIII destroyed the monastery when he decided "to hell with Catholics!" and turned it into a motherfucking pub. Awesome, right? Awesome for us, anyway.

Also, I had bangers and mash. Which is DELICIOUS.

Cheers!

The Art of Navigating London

I actually have a post written about my birthday but I just wanted to talk about this first. It was such a monumental day in my mind.

September 8^th, 2011, will forever live in my mind as a successful day: I navigated the city of London by myself.

Well, somewhat.

I have literally been trying to get to Argos, the British solution to Wal-Mart, since Monday, for pillows. We were given one sad little pillow and it wasn’t enough for my spoiled 3-pillow self. So, I finally ordered two pillows and two pillow cases for roughly £5. But that meant getting to Argos to pick them up.

At first I was supposed to go with Jenna and Sarah, but they had floor events so they hand-wrote directions for me. I was feeling pretty good at this point; I had just gotten offered a paying job, survived orientation, and it hadn’t rained yet that day. So I bid them farewell and went off with my hand-written directions and sense of pride.

I see your game, directions.

At first, I was walking along briskly down Gloucester Road, looking at all the beautiful architecture of Kensington-Chelsea borough. This was the first time I was trying to get somewhere by myself since I’d been here, and I was not about to screw it up. As I walked, I realized that I somehow had missed one of my turns, and was at Hyde Park. Confused, I called Sarah and asked if she could use Google Maps to somehow place me and help me find my way. I loitered at Hyde Park for a while and then she gave me a shaky set of directions, including a street name I couldn’t quite hear. Now, you have to understand that London doesn’t have street signs like in the states that stick out in your face and are bright colors. They have these plaques on the sides of some buildings with street names. Helpful, London.

So I continued on, past Hyde Park, down Kensington Road, wandering through some shopping districts. And by some I mean a lot. American Apparel, H&M, the Orange Store, PC World, etc, etc. I was looking for a particular right turn so I could take a few more arbitrary turns when I saw the telltale blue-and-white Argos sign in the distance.

I had finally found Argos.

I was wearing flats from my interview, so I couldn’t really run, but I kind of jog-skipped into Argos, and it was like Christmas came early. There it was, the big catalogue books, the people dressed in blue polos, asking what my order number was in adorable accents. Finally, after three days of planning and attempting to find this mysterious store, I was inside. I gave my order number and 5 minutes later I had my pillows. I had stopped at Ryman’s on the way there to get notebooks and pens and I had gone to Waitrose earlier for some other essentials. So here I was, with my pillows, ecstatic that I had finally found Argos.

Now, I just had to find my way back to Sorbonne House. Armed with a new sense of accomplishment, I walked off into the busy sidewalk, heading in the direction of Hyde Park. I had finally reached the main gate of Hyde Park when I realized I wasn’t 100% sure of where Cromwell Road was; Cromwell Road is the street my house was off of. But luckily I saw Nicole, another friend, jogging around the park, so we walked together until she gave me awkward directions to the Natural History Museum and disappeared inside the Crofton. I wandered a bit more, found Waitrose and Boots, got a little confidence boost, called Saiya when I forgot where I was and finally, after I had left an hour ago, walked into Sorbonne House, map in one hand, bags in the other. I had finally navigated the city myself.

I’m starting to get you, London.

Oh, and Saiya and I got locked into Hyde Park and had to scale a fence to get out. Before we got lost in London. Again. I'm starting to get London... but London is definitely winning at the moment.

Saiya, successfully hopping the fence.

"Two BU students arrested in London for being too rebellious."

Life in the Big Smoke -- Day 1

So, at 7 a.m. this morning, I landed in Heathrow International Airport with roughly 50 other college students. We disembarked from the plane in a massive heap, and then awkwardly followed a crowd of well-seasoned travelers to customs, where we waited in line (FOR AN HOUR) to get into the country. Once we were in, though, we got our bags, called a cab and forever and a half later I was dumping my things all over the floor of my new home for the next 4 months.

Quaint.

This was all after I hacked up a lung and probably got everyone around me sick on the plane. I ran out of tissues about.... 2 hours into the flight, and had to keep reusing the same ones over and over as my dose dripped mucus all over me. On the bright side, I saw X-Men: First Class and learned how to play Bejeweled! That's good, right?

Anyway, after a ridiculous cab ride and making hasty dinner plans with people I just met, I wandered inside my flat and found my roommate. I then ventured to find Fallon and had a nice chat in her kitchen :) I love Fallon. She also helped me later when I almost got lost the first time I went walking. We went to Tescos (well, she led me and Sarah to Tescos) and we did some minor shopping. We're going to do more major shopping tomorrow after orientation. 

So far the trip has been good. Confusing as all hell; I got lost coming back from Sarah's flat and basically wandered the streets of London at night alone while not really knowing where I was going. Thankfully I live across the street from the Natural History Museum and that was... okay at least. My voice is nearly gone and that compared with my Yankee accent has made communication somewhat difficult, but I'm sure it'll get easier. 

The transition to living here was much easier than I thought. The cars driving on the wrong side of the road is a bit of a trip-up still but I'm getting the hang of it (although Sarah and I were almost hit by a cab on our way to dinner) and I overcame one of my biggest fears; making a huge fool of myself. Sarah and I did everything possible to do wrong in the pub, from thinking we were going to be waited on to not paying when we were supposed to. But we did it in stride and with laughter and it worked out fine, and now I feel like I can conquer every restaurant in this city. Maybe. We'll see. It's not as hard as I thought it would be, even though I'm out of money on my phone and I think I spent too much at the Underground, it's all good. It'll happen.

Cheers! :)

View from my window at night!

Well, today is the day.

This is it. Today, at 7:40 EST, I will be (hopefully, provided Logan doesn't suck) flying out of Boston and out over the Atlantic Ocean, to land in Heathrow International Airport at roughly 2 a.m. our time. I'm taking the group flight, although I have no idea who's on it. I'm hoping I'll recognize some other BU students/people who look my age and are traveling with an unnecessary amount of luggage. I also have a cold, which is just, well, awesome.


I have to say, I'm anxious to get there because my roommate is there already, Fallon's there already, and seeing their pictures on Facebook makes me just want to be there with them. Fallon and her friends are the only people I know in that entire country, so I want to be with them ASAP. I'll probably go harass Fallon when I finally get a chance to relax tomorrow (SO MANY THINGS TO DO.)


I'm not as anxious as I thought I would be today, probably because I already did all the good-byes and all the crying. Good lord, the crying. Leaving my sorority sisters on Monday was like being at a funeral. Although it was very touching, and it meant a lot to me. So, so much. I can't wait to come back and see those lovely ladies again :) Although having Fallon there will definitely help on those lonely days where I just miss BU and the BU Bands and TBS and I hide in my sweatshirt. Well, we'll see, I suppose.


The news is telling me I'm leaving on the same day as the very first EEE case. Wasn't that old news in 2005? Well anyway.


I've had "The I Love You Song" from 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee in my head since Monday.