I'm home. But how I (and the rest of my travel party) got there is quite a tale.
I guess I have to start off with the fact that my school is not always so great with stuff. This time, that stuff was a date, namely the date that my fellow Arcadia students and I were to make our way home. We had been told since the beginning that the last day of the term, including the exam period, was June 11th. From this, we concluded that the last day of test-taking would be June 11th, and therefore, to avoid being stressed during an exam we might have on that day, we should leave on the twelfth. As many people have pointed out in the last few weeks, the eleventh was in fact a Saturday, and they wonder why we thought we might have an exam on that day. To this, I give the explanation that we were entering into a foreign exam system. Who knows if they had finals on Saturdays? They do that in America occasionally.
However odd our judgement might have seemed, those of us who decided to stay the entire term booked our flight home for the twelfth. This was all fine and dandy until Laura heard from her flatmates that all students were to vacate the residence halls on the eleventh. She e-mailed a few people and the answer that finally came basically said that, though it was our fault and not theirs, QMUL would allow us to stay on campus an extra day. Good job, Arcadia.
Thankfully, no matter what decision was made, I had a place to stay. Adrienne did, as well, since, because she was on the same flight as me, she was staying at the flat the night before and then coming with us to the airport. We had collected one of her suitcases earlier, but the plan for her and the rest of her suitcases was to take a taxi to our flat and then all would be well. Unfortunately, another cab service proved themselves worthless, as I mentioned in my last entry. Adrienne texted me at 8:30 saying that she was still waiting for a cab. We texted back and forth, me offering to come and get her and her saying that it was fine, she'd manage to get a cab. An hour later though, she still hadn't found one. Even worse was the fact that she used up all of the money on her phone calling the crap cab service, which left our conversation without a conclusion. I didn't know where she was, whether it was at the school or outside of our flat, and she couldn't tell me if she had gotten a cab or not. Of course we didn't want her waiting for a cab all night, especially since the East End is not exactly the bext place for a girl with many suitcases to be waiting alone. So my dad and I decided to go and find her. If she made it to the flat, Mom could let her in. If she was still at the uni, then we could help her take her stuff to the flat.
But the universe was not on our side. Two of the closest tube stations were closed, and we had to get a bus, which is slower (though, at least in our case, not much.) I had thought I would go by myself, but I was grateful that my dad had come along. When we finally got to the campus gates, we hopped off the bus and across the street I saw Adrienne waiting with all of her bags, Laura at her side. I shouted over to her and my dad and I crossed the street over to them. They had been trying to flag down a cab (which generally involved Laura running into the street and waving her arms around), but no one had stopped. We all tried to flag down the next few cabs, but not only were they few and far between, the ones we did see had their lights off. Eventually, we saw one coming down the opposite side of the road and Dad put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. Amazingly, the driver heard him, pulled a U-turn, and picked us up.
That, thankfully, was the end of that night's drama, and there wasn't really much surrounding the airport, either. When I saw the sign for Heathrow, I started getting a little teary, as it meant I was really leaving my adopted country. After some rearranging, all of the family bags passed the weight inspection (even my carry-on that held at least fifteen books and a teapot/cup.) Because I had booked my ticket separate from everyone, I was sitting on my own. Of course, I had seatmates, and the two people sitting nearest to me were an older Japanese couple. They were very angry. Besides being displeased that they were sitting in the middle of a four-person row, they were also livid that they were put next to an apparently teenage girl. If looks could kill, I would be dead from the glares they were giving me as they muttered to each other in Japanese. They did this until they realised that I, sitting quietly reading, was not the problem passenger- they were. It was after they made me get up and down to let them out several times and dropping their belongings on my head that they started to warm up to me. After that, they didn't bother with me except to try to watch what I was watching over my shoulder, apparently unaware that they could watch the same thing without craning their necks on their own video screen.
Besides that, the flight was quite nice, and while it was long, there were some good documentaries offered, which I watched the entire time. After we went through all of the security and baggage claim, we came out the arrivals gate to see Adrienne's family with a GIANT "Welcome Home" sign. I'm very happy that I'll at least get to see one of my friends from England at school :)
After a three hour drive home, we pulled into the driveway at 4 a.m. GMT (London time.) We all pretty much collapsed into bed, but we all woke up before seven. I, however, am not fooled by jet lag's evil ways. I've heard it take a day for every hour difference to recover, and if that's the case, then I'll still have a cold medicine buzz feeling until next Sunday. Today I fell victim to a nap- I hate sleeping period, but sleeping during the day is something I avoid at all costs. However, since I was afraid I might fall off the steps when I descended them, I thought it might be best. As of now, I am very tired and feeling incredibly nostalgic about London.
It's funny the things I got used to without realising it. For example, I didn't think the English accent had become so familiar to me. Obviously, I was hearing it more often than usual, but between my constant exposure to British movies/audio books and the fact that ninety percent of the people I regularly hung out with were American, I didn't think my situation had changed much. That is, until I was shocked that both the bus driver and the lady behind the counter at the hotel had American accents. I genuinely did a mental double take at the sounds of their accents. I guess I was just used to everyone around me speaking a certain way, even if those I was conversing with didn't sound like that.
I was also surprised to see the side the driver's seat was on. This was another weird observation, as up until my very last day in London, I still hadn't gotten used to the driver sitting on the right. Yet when I saw the seat on the left, I was momentarily confused. Also, random observation from the drive home: we have so many shopping malls/outlets here. It's really ridiculous.
Besides combating jet leg, today has been spent unpacking as much as possible. I'm nearly done, but in addition to unpacking from London, I also have a bit left over from fall term at Arcadia. I will not be tackling that today. In other news, my laptop has grown very tired from all of the traveling and has decided not only to refuse WiFi, but also to present a myriad of other problems that are resulting in it being sent away for computer surgery... again.
Now, my bed is calling my name. Sadly, it's covered in stuff...
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Monday, June 13, 2011
Saturday, June 11, 2011
And So It's Over
We’ve just returned from our last trip in England. My family and I spent the day in Dover (the one with the white cliffs) and Canterbury. It was really, really cold today, maybe about fifty degrees, and windy. This made the day a bit more disagreeable than it might have been, as the weather was supposed to be warm and we were all dressed for that. However, Dover was still really pretty and we saw the white cliffs, which is another one of those things you don’t realize you want to do until you do it. We went to Dover Castle and all of the war exhibits near it.
We weren’t sure if we’d make it to Canterbury, or rather, we thought we might get to the city and find that both the cathedral and all of the shops were closed. Asking only got us a million different answers. However, the train station we would end up at in Canterbury was the same one we needed to get back to London and we decided to use that to our advantage; if we got to Canterbury and found that everything was closed, we’d go back to London.
Everything was open, and so I found myself in Canterbury Cathedral for the third time in five months. This meant that I didn’t walk around much, though I did take all of my small English change, which I’d never be able to spend without someone wanting to kill me, and dumped it in their donation box. It was pouring on and off, but we managed to get dinner to go and make it back to the train station before it rained again.
Tomorrow, we go home. Adrienne is bringing her stuff to the flat and traveling with us to the airport, since she’s on the same flight. Unfortunately, just as it did on my family’s first night, the cab service she hired is screwing her over. She’s been waiting for them for almost an hour. I may end up going to the uni to help her bring her stuff here on the tube, but we’re still waiting to see if the cab will show up.
Anyway… tomorrow we go home. I’m not sure how I feel about it. I definitely don’t want to leave England. Besides my London casting inbox suddenly overflowing in these last two weeks (of course), I keep looking at everything and thinking how I can’t leave it. I love London and England and the people here too much to leave. I’m talking about the English, yes, but also my friends that I’ve made here that are otherwise, too. Laura and I had a good-bye chatting session yesterday. I went to her room at school and I figured I’d just stay for a bit (I try to avoid goodbyes), but I kept thinking, ‘I’ll just stay for fifteen more minutes’ until nearly three hours had passed and my mom called and asked me if I would be back for dinner. It was really sad to say goodbye to her. She may live in America, too, but she lives really far away from me. I hope we get to see each other again.
Tomorrow is finishing cleaning up, packing anything we used today, getting an English breakfast and heading to the airport at 12:30 (if our cab shows up this time.) By 4:15, we’ll be on the plane and eight hours later, we come home.
For those still looking for the rest of the advice blog, I promise it's coming. I added a lot of stuff from these last two weeks :)
We weren’t sure if we’d make it to Canterbury, or rather, we thought we might get to the city and find that both the cathedral and all of the shops were closed. Asking only got us a million different answers. However, the train station we would end up at in Canterbury was the same one we needed to get back to London and we decided to use that to our advantage; if we got to Canterbury and found that everything was closed, we’d go back to London.
Everything was open, and so I found myself in Canterbury Cathedral for the third time in five months. This meant that I didn’t walk around much, though I did take all of my small English change, which I’d never be able to spend without someone wanting to kill me, and dumped it in their donation box. It was pouring on and off, but we managed to get dinner to go and make it back to the train station before it rained again.
Tomorrow, we go home. Adrienne is bringing her stuff to the flat and traveling with us to the airport, since she’s on the same flight. Unfortunately, just as it did on my family’s first night, the cab service she hired is screwing her over. She’s been waiting for them for almost an hour. I may end up going to the uni to help her bring her stuff here on the tube, but we’re still waiting to see if the cab will show up.
Anyway… tomorrow we go home. I’m not sure how I feel about it. I definitely don’t want to leave England. Besides my London casting inbox suddenly overflowing in these last two weeks (of course), I keep looking at everything and thinking how I can’t leave it. I love London and England and the people here too much to leave. I’m talking about the English, yes, but also my friends that I’ve made here that are otherwise, too. Laura and I had a good-bye chatting session yesterday. I went to her room at school and I figured I’d just stay for a bit (I try to avoid goodbyes), but I kept thinking, ‘I’ll just stay for fifteen more minutes’ until nearly three hours had passed and my mom called and asked me if I would be back for dinner. It was really sad to say goodbye to her. She may live in America, too, but she lives really far away from me. I hope we get to see each other again.
Tomorrow is finishing cleaning up, packing anything we used today, getting an English breakfast and heading to the airport at 12:30 (if our cab shows up this time.) By 4:15, we’ll be on the plane and eight hours later, we come home.
For those still looking for the rest of the advice blog, I promise it's coming. I added a lot of stuff from these last two weeks :)
Monday, May 30, 2011
On Going Home
The other day, I dissolved into a puddle of worry. Don’t ask me why; it’s something I’ve done regularly since I was still in single digits. After thinking about what reasons I could possibly have for feeling this way- after all, my exam was over and my family is coming soon- I realized that the reason was mostly that I felt time here running out. There’s still so, so much I haven’t done here. A lifetime in London would not be enough to do everything offered here, and I wish I had that long to try.
The truth is that after nearly five months, I still don’t miss home. I miss the people, definitely- the closer going home gets, the more excited I get to see them. But I could happily never go back to America and not miss the places I’ve lived.
I thought I would miss driving- I lost out on five months of quality singing-with-myself time- but I don’t. To be honest, as much as I do enjoy singing in my car, driving still makes me really nervous and the tube has its transportation perks. Besides there being no traffic, one of my favorite places to read is the tube.
I thought I would miss my school more, but again, it’s the people I miss, not the buildings and the campus. I don’t long for the theatre as a structure, but I’ve really missed having someone who cares about the upcoming season within shouting distance most of the time. I still wish I could have had another semester living with my wonderful friend Kara, but there’s a chance that could happen again, and perhaps in a space that’s bigger than 10’x15’.
It bothers me that I still remember what a drive to work looks like and that an American accent still sounds normal to me. (This is my own fault though, because it’s the fact that an English accent sounds normal, as I spent a good deal of the last ten years listening to Harry Potter on tape and watching English movies.)
One of the things that is stupidly worrying is that I won’t be able to read the authors I’ve gotten into while I’ve been here, namely Angela Carter and Maggie O’Farrell. There’s such a different writing style here that I don’t think their books will be sold in America. This worry is stupid, however, because Amazon exists.
I realized a few weeks ago that I didn’t have any British souvenirs for myself. No problem, I thought. There are souvenir shops everywhere. I’ll just go out and get myself something with the British flag on it- easy. Not easy, as it turns out. I wrote yesterday about how the urge to buy everything relating to your adopted country will fade after a few weeks. After a few months, buying it becomes a laughable thought. I’ve wandered around at least three souvenir shops, looking at crystal Big Bens and Union Jack tins, as well as a nauseating amount of royal wedding stuff (it will never go away. It will be in the landfills thousands of years from now), and I didn’t want any of it. None of it was appropriately symbolic of my experience, but somehow I feel like if I don’t buy something with the British flag on it, I’m not doing it right. Eventually, I bought a tiny British flag for one pound. I haven’t bought any other souvenir-y type things for myself, and I don’t know if I will. How can I represent an entire experience in a magnet shaped like a post box?
It’s going to be really hard to leave London. Just the thought makes me want to cry. The feeling is even more acute at this moment for two reasons: the first because Adrienne and I just got back from an AMAZING production of Much Ado About Nothing at the Globe (more about that later) and the second because when I returned and checked my e-mail, I had a personal invitation to audition for this short film that has an incredible script. It got such a reaction out of me when I read it that I have a physical ache inside that I can’t even audition for it- besides the fact that my family is arriving in less than twenty-four hours, filming goes until June 15th. Why couldn’t this have come up earlier?!
*sigh* London, I wish I could have you forever.
The truth is that after nearly five months, I still don’t miss home. I miss the people, definitely- the closer going home gets, the more excited I get to see them. But I could happily never go back to America and not miss the places I’ve lived.
I thought I would miss driving- I lost out on five months of quality singing-with-myself time- but I don’t. To be honest, as much as I do enjoy singing in my car, driving still makes me really nervous and the tube has its transportation perks. Besides there being no traffic, one of my favorite places to read is the tube.
I thought I would miss my school more, but again, it’s the people I miss, not the buildings and the campus. I don’t long for the theatre as a structure, but I’ve really missed having someone who cares about the upcoming season within shouting distance most of the time. I still wish I could have had another semester living with my wonderful friend Kara, but there’s a chance that could happen again, and perhaps in a space that’s bigger than 10’x15’.
It bothers me that I still remember what a drive to work looks like and that an American accent still sounds normal to me. (This is my own fault though, because it’s the fact that an English accent sounds normal, as I spent a good deal of the last ten years listening to Harry Potter on tape and watching English movies.)
One of the things that is stupidly worrying is that I won’t be able to read the authors I’ve gotten into while I’ve been here, namely Angela Carter and Maggie O’Farrell. There’s such a different writing style here that I don’t think their books will be sold in America. This worry is stupid, however, because Amazon exists.
I realized a few weeks ago that I didn’t have any British souvenirs for myself. No problem, I thought. There are souvenir shops everywhere. I’ll just go out and get myself something with the British flag on it- easy. Not easy, as it turns out. I wrote yesterday about how the urge to buy everything relating to your adopted country will fade after a few weeks. After a few months, buying it becomes a laughable thought. I’ve wandered around at least three souvenir shops, looking at crystal Big Bens and Union Jack tins, as well as a nauseating amount of royal wedding stuff (it will never go away. It will be in the landfills thousands of years from now), and I didn’t want any of it. None of it was appropriately symbolic of my experience, but somehow I feel like if I don’t buy something with the British flag on it, I’m not doing it right. Eventually, I bought a tiny British flag for one pound. I haven’t bought any other souvenir-y type things for myself, and I don’t know if I will. How can I represent an entire experience in a magnet shaped like a post box?
It’s going to be really hard to leave London. Just the thought makes me want to cry. The feeling is even more acute at this moment for two reasons: the first because Adrienne and I just got back from an AMAZING production of Much Ado About Nothing at the Globe (more about that later) and the second because when I returned and checked my e-mail, I had a personal invitation to audition for this short film that has an incredible script. It got such a reaction out of me when I read it that I have a physical ache inside that I can’t even audition for it- besides the fact that my family is arriving in less than twenty-four hours, filming goes until June 15th. Why couldn’t this have come up earlier?!
*sigh* London, I wish I could have you forever.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Picnic!
My absence is again due to studying- I finally finished highlighting the even key-er parts of my key notes tonight and will be reading them over until my exam on Thursday at 2 p.m. But it's also due to the fact that I've been having some fun, too.
I was invited to a picnic in St. James' Park by my flatmate and friend Emmie. Technically, it was a post-exams picnic, but I was still allowed to come with my exams yet to be had :p Adrienne came, too, and we met at one to head off to the park.
We got to the park around two and were ravenous by then. We had all contributed to the food haul and it was a pretty delicious spread.
A fair amount of people were expected to attend, but it ended up being only six of us. This was actually a great number to have- we had some interesting conversations and I made some new friends, which is always good. It was warm enough to ditch my sweater and sunny enough to get a slight tan (or, in other people's case, sunburned.) All in all, it was a wonderful afternoon.
We stayed in the park until about six thirty and then wandered toward the tube. Adrienne and I broke off from the group to do a bit of quick exploring and headed back an hour later. Before we had left the group, Emily, one of my new friends, asked us to come to her flat to watch the new(er) Sherlock series with Benedict Cumberbatch. Besides the fact that I've heard really great things about it, I was interested in seeing Cumberbatch in something else after seeing him in Frankenstein back in February. I loved the episode we watched- it's really funny and the series is set in contemporary times, which surprised me. Another surprise was that Cumberbatch's performance as Sherlock was amazing enough to completely make me forget about his perfect performance as the digusting and hateful Paul Marshall in Atonement. I hate that character so much that I was unsure whether I'd ever be convinced by him in another role. I was. We met again last night to watch the last episode, which was just as awesome.
This morning, I was supposed to have breakfast at Jamie Oliver's restaurant with Arcadia. If you don't know, Jamie Oliver is a very famous cook here who has had a million television shows. Unforunately, while I set my alarm, I neglected to switch on the actual alarm. We were supposed to meet at the restuarant at 9:30 and I woke up at 9:15. If the resturant hadn't been twenty-plus minutes away, I would have attempted to get there, but I hate it when people are late and decided not to be that person. Thankfully, the event was free, so I didn't lose anything but a hearty English breakfast. I was automatically punished for my laziness by the fact that the only thing I could do for breakfast without going shopping was a piece of toast and jelly. Oh, well.
Random but sad: I did my last grocery shopping trip today. Bye bye, Sainbury's. I will miss you, your funny wrappers, and your amazingly low prices.
In addition to my studying, I've been doing a lot of personal writing and I'm pretty happy with what I've done; even though it's just a single scene, it took me a long time to write it. Now I must return to said writing :)
Also- tomorrow, it will be a week until my family gets here!!!
I was invited to a picnic in St. James' Park by my flatmate and friend Emmie. Technically, it was a post-exams picnic, but I was still allowed to come with my exams yet to be had :p Adrienne came, too, and we met at one to head off to the park.
We got to the park around two and were ravenous by then. We had all contributed to the food haul and it was a pretty delicious spread.
A fair amount of people were expected to attend, but it ended up being only six of us. This was actually a great number to have- we had some interesting conversations and I made some new friends, which is always good. It was warm enough to ditch my sweater and sunny enough to get a slight tan (or, in other people's case, sunburned.) All in all, it was a wonderful afternoon.
We stayed in the park until about six thirty and then wandered toward the tube. Adrienne and I broke off from the group to do a bit of quick exploring and headed back an hour later. Before we had left the group, Emily, one of my new friends, asked us to come to her flat to watch the new(er) Sherlock series with Benedict Cumberbatch. Besides the fact that I've heard really great things about it, I was interested in seeing Cumberbatch in something else after seeing him in Frankenstein back in February. I loved the episode we watched- it's really funny and the series is set in contemporary times, which surprised me. Another surprise was that Cumberbatch's performance as Sherlock was amazing enough to completely make me forget about his perfect performance as the digusting and hateful Paul Marshall in Atonement. I hate that character so much that I was unsure whether I'd ever be convinced by him in another role. I was. We met again last night to watch the last episode, which was just as awesome.
This morning, I was supposed to have breakfast at Jamie Oliver's restaurant with Arcadia. If you don't know, Jamie Oliver is a very famous cook here who has had a million television shows. Unforunately, while I set my alarm, I neglected to switch on the actual alarm. We were supposed to meet at the restuarant at 9:30 and I woke up at 9:15. If the resturant hadn't been twenty-plus minutes away, I would have attempted to get there, but I hate it when people are late and decided not to be that person. Thankfully, the event was free, so I didn't lose anything but a hearty English breakfast. I was automatically punished for my laziness by the fact that the only thing I could do for breakfast without going shopping was a piece of toast and jelly. Oh, well.
Random but sad: I did my last grocery shopping trip today. Bye bye, Sainbury's. I will miss you, your funny wrappers, and your amazingly low prices.
In addition to my studying, I've been doing a lot of personal writing and I'm pretty happy with what I've done; even though it's just a single scene, it took me a long time to write it. Now I must return to said writing :)
Also- tomorrow, it will be a week until my family gets here!!!
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Tension All Around
I don't like to study. Actually, maybe the problem is that I don't know how to study. I never had to when I was younger. Then I became old and had to learn more than two-page study guides to ace a test. My major actually requires lots of studying, since we have to memorize a good numbers of scenes and monologues per semester, but the difference, I think, is that memorization has a definitive end point- when you know it by heart, yay, you've done your job (well, part of it.) With regular studying for tests, you don't actually know what information will be useful.
Which means that after reading about nine specific sections in primary sources, I have thirty-one pages of "important quotes," put in quotations because who knows if they're actually important or not... and this is just a fraction of the stuff I need. I don't know what I do.
But whether I know what to do or not, this stupid list of books (to which our teacher wants us to add by ourselves) is staring at me from my wardobe door.
In semi-related news, things are tense here in the flat, because of exams for some people and because of the behavior of other people in the flat for others. Three out of the six remaining people here still refuse to do their own dishes or clean up after themselves, which means that our kitchen is in constant disarray, including a sink clogged by general grossness. When Adrienne wrote a note about this and left it next to said grossness, the offender maturely threw it into the grossness. Then another flatmate thought it was to her and flipped out on Adrienne. It's fun times here.
Which means that after reading about nine specific sections in primary sources, I have thirty-one pages of "important quotes," put in quotations because who knows if they're actually important or not... and this is just a fraction of the stuff I need. I don't know what I do.
But whether I know what to do or not, this stupid list of books (to which our teacher wants us to add by ourselves) is staring at me from my wardobe door.
In semi-related news, things are tense here in the flat, because of exams for some people and because of the behavior of other people in the flat for others. Three out of the six remaining people here still refuse to do their own dishes or clean up after themselves, which means that our kitchen is in constant disarray, including a sink clogged by general grossness. When Adrienne wrote a note about this and left it next to said grossness, the offender maturely threw it into the grossness. Then another flatmate thought it was to her and flipped out on Adrienne. It's fun times here.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
In Which I Lazily Discuss Two Shows
I am tired. I am very very tired and I don't know why. Maybe it's because of the weather- it's grey and rainy. Or because I spent about four straight hours last night standing, three of those craning my neck up to see what I'll be talking about later. Maybe it's because yesterday was a day of grieving, as it has been for the past few years for my friends and I. Or because I've been going to the gym every day and living on much fewer calories than I usually do. Perhaps because I've been studying for about five or six hours every day and I'm sick of it. Or it could be a combination of all of those things.
In any case, it's annoying. I am not motivated to do anything. I waffled a long time about if I even wanted to do this. But things need to get done today, and so here I am, trying to kick start myself even though the day is almost half over.
I saw two shows in the past two days, and it was awesome. Thursday night, Adrienne and I went to go see Les Miserables at the Queen's Theatre. When I booked my tickets, my mom said, "But you've seen Les Mis a million times!" It certainly feels like I have, but the fact is that I've only seen one high school production of it; the feel of seeing it a million times comes from when I was in it, rehearsing many times a week for almost four months. And even though I know the show very well, I've never seen or been in a full-length version (there is a student version of the show.) And so I was excited.
We arrived at the theatre with plenty of time to spare and got our souvenir programs as well as our regular programs. We were displeased to discover that we were sitting amidst three rows of pre-teen and teenage boys. These boys all had extreme difficulty in reading their tickets. They stood at the end of our row (we were on the aisle) for a long time, trying to decipher what their tickets said. Finally, they realised that they were sitting on the other side of us and we let them through. But then it seemed they had still misread their tickets- half of them were in the wrong seat. They all got up and musical-chaired around. A older couple arrived and remarked that the two boys sitting next to me were in their seats. More shuffling around. Then came the sudden need for them all to go the bathroom/get snacks or drinks/stretch their legs... and they did it one by one, every twenty seconds or so, meaning that finally, Adrienne and I stopped standing up to let them through and just moved our knees aside. We were fully prepared to smack them with our programs if they talked during the show (to their credit, they didn't.)
The show was incredible. Three main roles, including Eponine and Cosette, were being played by understudies, but you never would have known. Javert was amazing (and the only American in the cast.) Our Cosette was extremely young (because there are multiple understudies and we were kind of far away, we don't know who played her, but they way she acted and moved was in a way that I think can only be done by an actual teenage girl.) Eponine gave me hope for my future because she was quite short in addition to being fantastic. I wanted to adopt Gavroche. The Thenardiers were disgusting and hysterical. All in all, the cast was great (and, even besides Cosette, it was quite a young one.)
With the perfect voices, the great acting, and the awesome sets, there was only one thing I didn't like, and that was the blocking (or, for those of you who don't speak theatre, how the director has the actors moving around the stage.) Especially for the first act, it was really awkward and you could tell that the actors were uncomfortable with it. Perhaps something had gone wrong and they had just restaged it that afternoon, but it looked weird. The worst instance of awkward blocking was when Javert jumped off the bridge. When he hit the "water", the director had him roll all over the stage. This looked so dumb that I actually rolled my eyes. However, if there's only one thing wrong with a show, that's hardly anything to complain about. Overall, it was fantastic!
(Oh, and I was surprised to find out that the edits they make to shorten the student version are not to clean it up- most of the vulgarity is in the student edition. It's mostly the extra narration that they take out.)
Last night, I went to see Hamlet at the Globe (or, as they make sure to say here, Shakespeare's Globe.) Hamlet is my favorite Shakespeare play, and like Les Mis, I'd only seen a shorter version before (not including movies.)
Since I didn't to be late, I left much earlier than I needed to, but my obnoxious earliness worked to my benefit this time- if groundlings (which is what I was) get there early enough, they can get right up against the stage rather than trying to see over the other people. Because I was so early, I got a spot right at the front of the stage.
The show was really great, and very different than I think a lot of productions of Hamlet in that it was very darkly funny. The jokes are in there, of course, but this company underlined them and did it well. They also incorporated music- all of the actors (besides Hamlet, who was a little busy contemplating life and such) could play instruments, be it a drum, guitar, violin, recorder, or tambourine. It was really cool, since they used it to accompany the songs they opened and closed the show with as well as using them to add to the atmosphere of scenes like those involving the king's ghost.
They also cast all of the actors (again, besides Hamlet) in multiple roles- Polonius was one of the players as well as the preacher and the first gravedigger. The king also played the ghost (which was a cool idea, since they're brothers), and a player. Since the show is a traveling show, they were very creative with how they cast everyone. Even with Hamlet, they went against the norm- he was really short for a guy, maybe 5'4" at the tallest (I think he was shorter, but it was kind of hard to tell from where I was standing.) Everyone was taller than him, including Ophelia, and they didn't shy away from pointing this out. I'm glad they didn't decide not to cast him because of his lack of height because he was really great. In fact, the whole cast was and I would have given them a standing ovation if I hadn't been standing the whole time.
(One thing that definitely detracted from the show was the fact that the people around me would not stop talking. I know your ticket was only five pounds, but did you come here to see a show or have a conversation?)
And now I must go try to get some things done. The thought of studying more is saddening :(
In any case, it's annoying. I am not motivated to do anything. I waffled a long time about if I even wanted to do this. But things need to get done today, and so here I am, trying to kick start myself even though the day is almost half over.
I saw two shows in the past two days, and it was awesome. Thursday night, Adrienne and I went to go see Les Miserables at the Queen's Theatre. When I booked my tickets, my mom said, "But you've seen Les Mis a million times!" It certainly feels like I have, but the fact is that I've only seen one high school production of it; the feel of seeing it a million times comes from when I was in it, rehearsing many times a week for almost four months. And even though I know the show very well, I've never seen or been in a full-length version (there is a student version of the show.) And so I was excited.
We arrived at the theatre with plenty of time to spare and got our souvenir programs as well as our regular programs. We were displeased to discover that we were sitting amidst three rows of pre-teen and teenage boys. These boys all had extreme difficulty in reading their tickets. They stood at the end of our row (we were on the aisle) for a long time, trying to decipher what their tickets said. Finally, they realised that they were sitting on the other side of us and we let them through. But then it seemed they had still misread their tickets- half of them were in the wrong seat. They all got up and musical-chaired around. A older couple arrived and remarked that the two boys sitting next to me were in their seats. More shuffling around. Then came the sudden need for them all to go the bathroom/get snacks or drinks/stretch their legs... and they did it one by one, every twenty seconds or so, meaning that finally, Adrienne and I stopped standing up to let them through and just moved our knees aside. We were fully prepared to smack them with our programs if they talked during the show (to their credit, they didn't.)
The show was incredible. Three main roles, including Eponine and Cosette, were being played by understudies, but you never would have known. Javert was amazing (and the only American in the cast.) Our Cosette was extremely young (because there are multiple understudies and we were kind of far away, we don't know who played her, but they way she acted and moved was in a way that I think can only be done by an actual teenage girl.) Eponine gave me hope for my future because she was quite short in addition to being fantastic. I wanted to adopt Gavroche. The Thenardiers were disgusting and hysterical. All in all, the cast was great (and, even besides Cosette, it was quite a young one.)
With the perfect voices, the great acting, and the awesome sets, there was only one thing I didn't like, and that was the blocking (or, for those of you who don't speak theatre, how the director has the actors moving around the stage.) Especially for the first act, it was really awkward and you could tell that the actors were uncomfortable with it. Perhaps something had gone wrong and they had just restaged it that afternoon, but it looked weird. The worst instance of awkward blocking was when Javert jumped off the bridge. When he hit the "water", the director had him roll all over the stage. This looked so dumb that I actually rolled my eyes. However, if there's only one thing wrong with a show, that's hardly anything to complain about. Overall, it was fantastic!
(Oh, and I was surprised to find out that the edits they make to shorten the student version are not to clean it up- most of the vulgarity is in the student edition. It's mostly the extra narration that they take out.)
Last night, I went to see Hamlet at the Globe (or, as they make sure to say here, Shakespeare's Globe.) Hamlet is my favorite Shakespeare play, and like Les Mis, I'd only seen a shorter version before (not including movies.)
Since I didn't to be late, I left much earlier than I needed to, but my obnoxious earliness worked to my benefit this time- if groundlings (which is what I was) get there early enough, they can get right up against the stage rather than trying to see over the other people. Because I was so early, I got a spot right at the front of the stage.
The show was really great, and very different than I think a lot of productions of Hamlet in that it was very darkly funny. The jokes are in there, of course, but this company underlined them and did it well. They also incorporated music- all of the actors (besides Hamlet, who was a little busy contemplating life and such) could play instruments, be it a drum, guitar, violin, recorder, or tambourine. It was really cool, since they used it to accompany the songs they opened and closed the show with as well as using them to add to the atmosphere of scenes like those involving the king's ghost.
They also cast all of the actors (again, besides Hamlet) in multiple roles- Polonius was one of the players as well as the preacher and the first gravedigger. The king also played the ghost (which was a cool idea, since they're brothers), and a player. Since the show is a traveling show, they were very creative with how they cast everyone. Even with Hamlet, they went against the norm- he was really short for a guy, maybe 5'4" at the tallest (I think he was shorter, but it was kind of hard to tell from where I was standing.) Everyone was taller than him, including Ophelia, and they didn't shy away from pointing this out. I'm glad they didn't decide not to cast him because of his lack of height because he was really great. In fact, the whole cast was and I would have given them a standing ovation if I hadn't been standing the whole time.
(One thing that definitely detracted from the show was the fact that the people around me would not stop talking. I know your ticket was only five pounds, but did you come here to see a show or have a conversation?)
And now I must go try to get some things done. The thought of studying more is saddening :(
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Accents and Languages
100th POST! HOORAY! *steals paper blowy thing from wedding obsessor and celebrates with it*
And because I've hit this large number, I'm not going to talk about my day and how pointless it seemed to be, since I got almost nothing done due to an unforeseen problem. No! I will talk about something else!
The first- I mentioned in one of my France posts that I was surprised by all of the French speaking in France. Having lived in English-speaking places my whole life and not visiting many places before that didn't use English, it was really different, and I still can't imagine speaking another language and not translating it into English first to understand what people are saying. This is also why I was so amazed watching Megan throughout my visit.
Megan is very good at French. She always has been, in my eight or so years of knowing her, but seeing her in action in France- it was awesome, and I told her so. I can't fathom having an ease with other languages, as learning new ones has never come easily to me. It's fascinating.
The second- Adrienne mentioned that, in traveling around London with her dad and sister, she was told by several English people that they thought she was from the north of England. This is puzzling to me. Perhaps it's just because I talk to her pretty much every day, but she still sounds very American to me. I, too, was asked where I was from in England by my seatmate on the Eurostar, and I don't think my accent has changed, either. There are three explanations I can think of for these occurances:
1) There is an English accent that is similar to a standard American one. There very well could be- there seem to be a million dialects- but I'm not well-versed in the intricacies of English accents. According to Wikipedia (only the best resources here, folks), the areas of Lancashire, West Country, Corby area, Yorkshire, and Lincolnshire in England use rhotic Rs, as well as Ireland and Scotland. Perhaps these people think we are from these areas.
2) There has been a slight change to our speech. As much as I would love an English accent, I rather doubt this one- I've talked to people from home over Skype and I think they would have mentioned it.
3) There are enough Americans living in England/London for them to simply assume that we live in England despite our obviously foreign accents.
Whichever it is, it's very interesting.
Lastly for today- I have to admit defeat for my first Script Frenzy. I'm a bit disappointed in myself- this was probably the most free April I'll ever have, but I slacked off when I was traveling and it really took a toll. It also failed because the plot was weak. But it's okay- I failed m first National Novel Writing Month, too. It's all about figuring out how to approach it. I'll probably still finish the play, just not this month.
Now I must go and Skype!
And because I've hit this large number, I'm not going to talk about my day and how pointless it seemed to be, since I got almost nothing done due to an unforeseen problem. No! I will talk about something else!
The first- I mentioned in one of my France posts that I was surprised by all of the French speaking in France. Having lived in English-speaking places my whole life and not visiting many places before that didn't use English, it was really different, and I still can't imagine speaking another language and not translating it into English first to understand what people are saying. This is also why I was so amazed watching Megan throughout my visit.
Megan is very good at French. She always has been, in my eight or so years of knowing her, but seeing her in action in France- it was awesome, and I told her so. I can't fathom having an ease with other languages, as learning new ones has never come easily to me. It's fascinating.
The second- Adrienne mentioned that, in traveling around London with her dad and sister, she was told by several English people that they thought she was from the north of England. This is puzzling to me. Perhaps it's just because I talk to her pretty much every day, but she still sounds very American to me. I, too, was asked where I was from in England by my seatmate on the Eurostar, and I don't think my accent has changed, either. There are three explanations I can think of for these occurances:
1) There is an English accent that is similar to a standard American one. There very well could be- there seem to be a million dialects- but I'm not well-versed in the intricacies of English accents. According to Wikipedia (only the best resources here, folks), the areas of Lancashire, West Country, Corby area, Yorkshire, and Lincolnshire in England use rhotic Rs, as well as Ireland and Scotland. Perhaps these people think we are from these areas.
2) There has been a slight change to our speech. As much as I would love an English accent, I rather doubt this one- I've talked to people from home over Skype and I think they would have mentioned it.
3) There are enough Americans living in England/London for them to simply assume that we live in England despite our obviously foreign accents.
Whichever it is, it's very interesting.
Lastly for today- I have to admit defeat for my first Script Frenzy. I'm a bit disappointed in myself- this was probably the most free April I'll ever have, but I slacked off when I was traveling and it really took a toll. It also failed because the plot was weak. But it's okay- I failed m first National Novel Writing Month, too. It's all about figuring out how to approach it. I'll probably still finish the play, just not this month.
Now I must go and Skype!
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
France Day Four
Note: I've posted all of my France entries on their respective days, so look below for those!
My final day in Lille was centered locally- Megan and I went to the local art museum, then to a bookstore, where it took everything in me not to buy some books. Not too much to say about those destinations- they were museumy and storey :p
When I got to the train station to catch the Eurostar back to London, Megan and I said goodbye when my platform was announced. She had told me that they were very strict about people coming back into England, but I wasn't worried. I got through the first check with no problem, filled out my immigration card, and took it to the window. The woman on the other side was nice at first, but the more she looked at my card, the sterner she grew. Suddenly, she started asking me rapid-fire questions: why was I in England for five months? Where was I studying? Did I have papers confirming this when I came in January? What was the date I arrived in January? How long was I in France? On what date did I get there? What date was I leaving England? Why that date?
This was when it started getting weird. After all of these questions were finished, she launched into an actual lecture, gazing at me coldly the whole way through. "I'm not going to give you too much trouble about this," she said. "But you need another visa." "Excuse me?" I stammered. I'd checked my visa a million times to make sure it was the right one. Getting a visa takes a really long time to do, and I couldn't believe I needed a new one. I pointed at the writing in my passport. "I have one, right there."
"That's a student visa," she snapped. "That only allows you to be in the country for less than six months. If you're leaving on the 11th of June, you're overstaying by a good number of days. You should leave on the third."
"But-"
"So make sure you're out of the country by the eleventh."
"I will be, but isn't-"
"This is very serious, but I'm going to let it go right now."
At this point, under the counter I was adding up the number of months from January to June on my fingers. Each time, I came to five. But whenever I tried to tell the woman this, she just glared at me and wouldn't let me speak. Eventually, she said, a final stern, "All right?" and I said, "Yes. And, I'm sorry, but... isn't January to June only five months?:
She seemed to be holding herself back from rolling her eyes at me as she opened her own hand and started to count on her fingers, making sure I could see what she was doing. When she landed on the fourth April-to-May finger, her smirk vanished and she looked up at me, wide-eyed. "I'm so sorry," she said. "Maths isn't my best subject." I wanted to stick my tongue out at her and blow a raspberry, but instead I said, "It's all right. It's not mine either." After a few more profuse apologies, she let me go. There's nothing like the threat of deportation to make a day interesting :p
The rest of the journey back was considerably less dramatic. I sat next to an older British woman who was very nice and we chatted most of the ride to St. Pancras, during which time she asked me many questions and told me all about her potted plants that had been stolen and how she, too, was hiding from the wedding tourists tomorrow. I got back to my room around nine and now it's past 2:30 a.m. and I am going to bed!
My final day in Lille was centered locally- Megan and I went to the local art museum, then to a bookstore, where it took everything in me not to buy some books. Not too much to say about those destinations- they were museumy and storey :p
When I got to the train station to catch the Eurostar back to London, Megan and I said goodbye when my platform was announced. She had told me that they were very strict about people coming back into England, but I wasn't worried. I got through the first check with no problem, filled out my immigration card, and took it to the window. The woman on the other side was nice at first, but the more she looked at my card, the sterner she grew. Suddenly, she started asking me rapid-fire questions: why was I in England for five months? Where was I studying? Did I have papers confirming this when I came in January? What was the date I arrived in January? How long was I in France? On what date did I get there? What date was I leaving England? Why that date?
This was when it started getting weird. After all of these questions were finished, she launched into an actual lecture, gazing at me coldly the whole way through. "I'm not going to give you too much trouble about this," she said. "But you need another visa." "Excuse me?" I stammered. I'd checked my visa a million times to make sure it was the right one. Getting a visa takes a really long time to do, and I couldn't believe I needed a new one. I pointed at the writing in my passport. "I have one, right there."
"That's a student visa," she snapped. "That only allows you to be in the country for less than six months. If you're leaving on the 11th of June, you're overstaying by a good number of days. You should leave on the third."
"But-"
"So make sure you're out of the country by the eleventh."
"I will be, but isn't-"
"This is very serious, but I'm going to let it go right now."
At this point, under the counter I was adding up the number of months from January to June on my fingers. Each time, I came to five. But whenever I tried to tell the woman this, she just glared at me and wouldn't let me speak. Eventually, she said, a final stern, "All right?" and I said, "Yes. And, I'm sorry, but... isn't January to June only five months?:
She seemed to be holding herself back from rolling her eyes at me as she opened her own hand and started to count on her fingers, making sure I could see what she was doing. When she landed on the fourth April-to-May finger, her smirk vanished and she looked up at me, wide-eyed. "I'm so sorry," she said. "Maths isn't my best subject." I wanted to stick my tongue out at her and blow a raspberry, but instead I said, "It's all right. It's not mine either." After a few more profuse apologies, she let me go. There's nothing like the threat of deportation to make a day interesting :p
The rest of the journey back was considerably less dramatic. I sat next to an older British woman who was very nice and we chatted most of the ride to St. Pancras, during which time she asked me many questions and told me all about her potted plants that had been stolen and how she, too, was hiding from the wedding tourists tomorrow. I got back to my room around nine and now it's past 2:30 a.m. and I am going to bed!
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
France Day Three
PARIS DAY!
Megan and I rose at 5 a.m. to leave at 5:30 for our 6:30 train into Paris. We arrived at the Gare de Nord around 7:40 a.m. I couldn't believe I was in Paris, especially when Megan led me onto and off of the Metro and to this:
My first thought was "Wow, Disney really got it right," which is kind of stupid since I don't really remember what Notre Dame looks like in the Hunchback of Notre Dame, not having seen it since I wa very young. I tried to stop thinking stupid thoughts after that and instead enjoyed what I found inside (and outside):
It was really awesome, to the point where I had the feeling that I wasn't fully appreciating what I was seeing.
We hung around in the church for a bit because Megan wanted to get a rosary for her youngest brother, but the problem was that we were there too early for... well, everything. None of the stores or restaurants or even stands were open. This meant that Megan couldn't get her rosary and we also couldn't go up into the bell tower, since we had to get to our next location before heading to our tour. So cue to next sight that I didn't feel I was fully appreciating:
When I saw this, I squealed, "Look! It's all tall and Eiffel-y!" Basically, my mind shuts down when I see exciting things :p
The line to get up the tower was ridiculous. The tower opened at nine. We arrived at 9:40 and the line was a mile long... and I'm not sure I'm exagerrating. We waited for about an hour and a half, finally buying our tickets to get to the top of the tower.
Because the line was so long, it ate into our time to see other things. So after we went up to the third level and snapped pictures, we got crepes across the street from the tower.
It was pretty good, but I'm not sure if I liked it more than any other crepe I've had. They folded it over a lot before putting the chocolate in, so it was mostly the flavor of the dough-type stuff. But it was still good.
We headed over to the ticket office and picked up the actual tickets for our tour. We were early, so we crossed the street to the Jardin Tuleries, which, contrary to the picture in my head, did not have many flowers, though it did have lots of statues.
On either side of the garden were the Louvre, the obelisk, and the Arc du Triomph. All pretty awesome to see, even from a distance.
At 1:15, we went back to the tour company and got on the bus to head to Giverny, where Monet's house is. As it turns out, sitting down was a bad idea. I couldn't figure out why I was so tired until I realised that we had already been up for almost nine hours and been on our feet for seven of those hours. For most of the hour and a half ride to Giverny, I was trying hard not to fall asleep and so was Megan. By the time we got to Giverny, however, we were pretty much recovered, which was good because it was a pretty cool sight to see.
I'm not much of an art person, but I do know of Monet and his work, and the site was awesome.
We spent about two and a half hours there before we all had to be back on the bus to go to Paris again. When we got back, we had enough time to grab dinner before hopping on the Lille-bound train. We were in Lille by 10:15 and back at Megan's room by 11:00, exhausted, but in a good way.
Megan and I rose at 5 a.m. to leave at 5:30 for our 6:30 train into Paris. We arrived at the Gare de Nord around 7:40 a.m. I couldn't believe I was in Paris, especially when Megan led me onto and off of the Metro and to this:
My first thought was "Wow, Disney really got it right," which is kind of stupid since I don't really remember what Notre Dame looks like in the Hunchback of Notre Dame, not having seen it since I wa very young. I tried to stop thinking stupid thoughts after that and instead enjoyed what I found inside (and outside):
It was really awesome, to the point where I had the feeling that I wasn't fully appreciating what I was seeing.
We hung around in the church for a bit because Megan wanted to get a rosary for her youngest brother, but the problem was that we were there too early for... well, everything. None of the stores or restaurants or even stands were open. This meant that Megan couldn't get her rosary and we also couldn't go up into the bell tower, since we had to get to our next location before heading to our tour. So cue to next sight that I didn't feel I was fully appreciating:
When I saw this, I squealed, "Look! It's all tall and Eiffel-y!" Basically, my mind shuts down when I see exciting things :p
The line to get up the tower was ridiculous. The tower opened at nine. We arrived at 9:40 and the line was a mile long... and I'm not sure I'm exagerrating. We waited for about an hour and a half, finally buying our tickets to get to the top of the tower.
Because the line was so long, it ate into our time to see other things. So after we went up to the third level and snapped pictures, we got crepes across the street from the tower.
It was pretty good, but I'm not sure if I liked it more than any other crepe I've had. They folded it over a lot before putting the chocolate in, so it was mostly the flavor of the dough-type stuff. But it was still good.
We headed over to the ticket office and picked up the actual tickets for our tour. We were early, so we crossed the street to the Jardin Tuleries, which, contrary to the picture in my head, did not have many flowers, though it did have lots of statues.
On either side of the garden were the Louvre, the obelisk, and the Arc du Triomph. All pretty awesome to see, even from a distance.
At 1:15, we went back to the tour company and got on the bus to head to Giverny, where Monet's house is. As it turns out, sitting down was a bad idea. I couldn't figure out why I was so tired until I realised that we had already been up for almost nine hours and been on our feet for seven of those hours. For most of the hour and a half ride to Giverny, I was trying hard not to fall asleep and so was Megan. By the time we got to Giverny, however, we were pretty much recovered, which was good because it was a pretty cool sight to see.
I'm not much of an art person, but I do know of Monet and his work, and the site was awesome.
We spent about two and a half hours there before we all had to be back on the bus to go to Paris again. When we got back, we had enough time to grab dinner before hopping on the Lille-bound train. We were in Lille by 10:15 and back at Megan's room by 11:00, exhausted, but in a good way.
Monday, April 25, 2011
France Day Two
My second day in France involved seeing a bit more of Lille. We didn't really have any specific places in mind, but we headed into the city's center after stopping off at Paul (a bakery chain that is also common in London) for a lapin chocolat (chocolate rabbit).
We ended up taking a path into a park, and when we got to the other side of it, we discovered that there was a carnival in full swing, with rides, games, and carnival food. We walked through and we both got barbe de papa (dad's beard, or cotton candy.)
As you can see, it was huge- and that was the smallest size! Megan said that she didn't know if she could finish all of it, and as we walked through the carnival eating our cotton candy, some teenage boys passed us and one snatched a handful of Megan's cotton candy! Be careful what you wish for, I guess :p
Megan led me toward the local zoo, which had free admission- that still blows my mind. It was a small zoo, but still a pretty good one. I was surprised that most of the cages/animal areas weren't enclosed. I was pretty sure if an animal wanted to jump out, it could- that's how low some of the walls were.
As I said, the zoo was small, so it didn't take us long to get through it. Megan then took me to the miliary base, but we couldn't go inside.
Something that is obvious but still surprised me was that people speak French. I know that sounds dumb, but I did just go to Italy, where people automatically switched into English when speaking to me. Being in France has been my first real, immersive experience when it comes to a different language. And while I've taken French since eighth grade with two great teachers, I have zero aptitude for the subject. I love it and think it's interesting and try hard, but I can still barely put a sentence together. Add to this the fact that first, they speak very fast, and second, they ask me things I never learned (due to my low level) and I was completely lost. By the third or fourth time, I actually felt the physical change as my eyes switched from normal to a glassy I-don't-understand-a-word-of-what-you-just-said stare. Thank God I had Megan there to help me. I was really irritated with myself for not being better, but it wasn't just lack of knowledge that held me back. I actually knew how to speak more French than I did while I was there, but I've always been so concerned about pronouncing something wrong or searching for words that I generally opt to be mute rather than risk making these mistakes. Therefore, most of the French things I said over the weekend were limited to "pardon," "merci," and "lapin chocolat, s'il vous plait." Disgraceful.
Tomorrow: Paris!
We ended up taking a path into a park, and when we got to the other side of it, we discovered that there was a carnival in full swing, with rides, games, and carnival food. We walked through and we both got barbe de papa (dad's beard, or cotton candy.)
As you can see, it was huge- and that was the smallest size! Megan said that she didn't know if she could finish all of it, and as we walked through the carnival eating our cotton candy, some teenage boys passed us and one snatched a handful of Megan's cotton candy! Be careful what you wish for, I guess :p
Megan led me toward the local zoo, which had free admission- that still blows my mind. It was a small zoo, but still a pretty good one. I was surprised that most of the cages/animal areas weren't enclosed. I was pretty sure if an animal wanted to jump out, it could- that's how low some of the walls were.
As I said, the zoo was small, so it didn't take us long to get through it. Megan then took me to the miliary base, but we couldn't go inside.
Something that is obvious but still surprised me was that people speak French. I know that sounds dumb, but I did just go to Italy, where people automatically switched into English when speaking to me. Being in France has been my first real, immersive experience when it comes to a different language. And while I've taken French since eighth grade with two great teachers, I have zero aptitude for the subject. I love it and think it's interesting and try hard, but I can still barely put a sentence together. Add to this the fact that first, they speak very fast, and second, they ask me things I never learned (due to my low level) and I was completely lost. By the third or fourth time, I actually felt the physical change as my eyes switched from normal to a glassy I-don't-understand-a-word-of-what-you-just-said stare. Thank God I had Megan there to help me. I was really irritated with myself for not being better, but it wasn't just lack of knowledge that held me back. I actually knew how to speak more French than I did while I was there, but I've always been so concerned about pronouncing something wrong or searching for words that I generally opt to be mute rather than risk making these mistakes. Therefore, most of the French things I said over the weekend were limited to "pardon," "merci," and "lapin chocolat, s'il vous plait." Disgraceful.
Tomorrow: Paris!
Sunday, April 24, 2011
France Day One
I headed for Lille, which is in the north of France, at 7:00 a.m. on Easter morning. Because so much of our time in London was spent sprinting to things (sometimes in a panic), Megan and I always joke that we are going to be cast in the next Jason Bourne movie. This wasn't so funny, though, when my day got off to a very Bourne-ish star.
I got to St. Pancras International, which is connected to King's Cross, around 7:45. My Eurostar train left at 8:58 and I had to get in line to check in at 8:30. Plenty of time, right? I thought so, too. I bought some Cadbury eggs for our unconventional Easter and headed over to the lines to join one. As it inched forward, I realised that everyone else had real tickets, not printed out itineraries like mine. But this was no problem (I thought); there were self-service machines in an alcove behind me. I stepped out of line, went over to one, and put in my info.
"We are unable to print this ticket as it has already been distributed," the machine informed me.
This wasn't good. The ticket hadn't already been printed- not by me, at least. At this point, it was about 8:20. I went over to a security guy by the wall and told him my problem. "It won't print?" he clarified. I confirmed this and told him that I really had to be in line already. When he found out my departure time, he looked concerned. "Run," he told me. "Run to the ticket office, cut in front of the line, and tell them what's going on."
And so the Bourne movie began as I sprinted through St. Pancras. When I got to the office, I went around the line and one of the employees saw me looking distressed. "What's wrong?" she asked. I explained my problem and handed her my itinerary. She looked at it and said, "Uh, you already missed your train."
The word "shriek" is only slightly too harsh to describe the volume of my voice when I cried, "No I didn't!" When I declared this, she glanced at the paper again and said, "Oh no, I guess you haven't." I recovered from my heart attack as she printed out my tickets. It turns out I wasn't the only one having the printing problem, and she moved on to a family of five while I dashed back to the departure area and got in line. After being moved to the front of several lines, I got through (after dropping one of my tickets and thinking I lost it) and made my way down to the train.
But my adventure wasn't over. It took me forever to find my seat because I got on on the wrong end of the train (the printing problem had robbed me of my time to check the guide to find out where to get on.) This meant I had to maneuver my way through the train with my bag and a rolled-up blanket. At one point, I reached a serving area that looked blocked off. "You can go through," one worker told me, but when I was halfway through, another worker yelled at me for passing that way.
By the time I finally found my seat, I was sweating and exhausted. But I did make it to France unscathed and Megan was there to meet me. We took the metro back to her building, I dropped off my stuff, and then we went to the market that goes up every Sunday.
Lille isn't a very big city, but it has more in it than it seemed when Megan was telling me about it. It has a theatre and an opera house, as well as a small mall. The market was cool, selling everything from cloth to knick-knacks to produce (a lot of produce.) It didn't take us long to walk through it and it had begun to rain, so we ducked into a bakery and bought a fresh, still-warm-from-the-oven baguette, which we took back to Megan's room and ate with cheese. It was delicious.
Because it was not only a Sunday but Easter, pretty much everything was closed; I was actually surprised that the market was running. We passed the time until dinner talking and watching an episode or two of Castle.
For dinner, Megan took me to one of her favorite eateries in Lille, Celine's, for kebabs. Kebabs were a surprise. To me, a kebab is a stick with things speared onto it. But the kebab I was served was actually a sandwich. As surprising as it was, it was also very tasty!
When we got back to the room, we watched-what else?- the Bourne Identity, to remind us of the things we might have to do during our trip. Tomorrow: more Lille exploration!
I got to St. Pancras International, which is connected to King's Cross, around 7:45. My Eurostar train left at 8:58 and I had to get in line to check in at 8:30. Plenty of time, right? I thought so, too. I bought some Cadbury eggs for our unconventional Easter and headed over to the lines to join one. As it inched forward, I realised that everyone else had real tickets, not printed out itineraries like mine. But this was no problem (I thought); there were self-service machines in an alcove behind me. I stepped out of line, went over to one, and put in my info.
"We are unable to print this ticket as it has already been distributed," the machine informed me.
This wasn't good. The ticket hadn't already been printed- not by me, at least. At this point, it was about 8:20. I went over to a security guy by the wall and told him my problem. "It won't print?" he clarified. I confirmed this and told him that I really had to be in line already. When he found out my departure time, he looked concerned. "Run," he told me. "Run to the ticket office, cut in front of the line, and tell them what's going on."
And so the Bourne movie began as I sprinted through St. Pancras. When I got to the office, I went around the line and one of the employees saw me looking distressed. "What's wrong?" she asked. I explained my problem and handed her my itinerary. She looked at it and said, "Uh, you already missed your train."
The word "shriek" is only slightly too harsh to describe the volume of my voice when I cried, "No I didn't!" When I declared this, she glanced at the paper again and said, "Oh no, I guess you haven't." I recovered from my heart attack as she printed out my tickets. It turns out I wasn't the only one having the printing problem, and she moved on to a family of five while I dashed back to the departure area and got in line. After being moved to the front of several lines, I got through (after dropping one of my tickets and thinking I lost it) and made my way down to the train.
But my adventure wasn't over. It took me forever to find my seat because I got on on the wrong end of the train (the printing problem had robbed me of my time to check the guide to find out where to get on.) This meant I had to maneuver my way through the train with my bag and a rolled-up blanket. At one point, I reached a serving area that looked blocked off. "You can go through," one worker told me, but when I was halfway through, another worker yelled at me for passing that way.
By the time I finally found my seat, I was sweating and exhausted. But I did make it to France unscathed and Megan was there to meet me. We took the metro back to her building, I dropped off my stuff, and then we went to the market that goes up every Sunday.
Lille isn't a very big city, but it has more in it than it seemed when Megan was telling me about it. It has a theatre and an opera house, as well as a small mall. The market was cool, selling everything from cloth to knick-knacks to produce (a lot of produce.) It didn't take us long to walk through it and it had begun to rain, so we ducked into a bakery and bought a fresh, still-warm-from-the-oven baguette, which we took back to Megan's room and ate with cheese. It was delicious.
Because it was not only a Sunday but Easter, pretty much everything was closed; I was actually surprised that the market was running. We passed the time until dinner talking and watching an episode or two of Castle.For dinner, Megan took me to one of her favorite eateries in Lille, Celine's, for kebabs. Kebabs were a surprise. To me, a kebab is a stick with things speared onto it. But the kebab I was served was actually a sandwich. As surprising as it was, it was also very tasty!
When we got back to the room, we watched-what else?- the Bourne Identity, to remind us of the things we might have to do during our trip. Tomorrow: more Lille exploration!
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Theatrical Differences
As I mentioned yesterday, I went to go see my friend in a show of one-acts this afternoon, and seeing my third show of the month reminded me of some more differences in American and British theatre that I've noticed since I've been here.
1) While I enjoyed watching my friend in the show- she was definitely one of the best performers in it- I noticed that most of the actors have a certain... way of performing. I hesitate to call it a "style," but maybe that is what it is. Whatever it is, I don't like it. I noticed the same approach in about 75-80% of the people who performed in the New Writer's Festival (thankfully, none of them in my pieces.)
It's not everyone- none of my classmates, that I've observed, take this approach to performance, but it seems like a fair majority of young performers do. As I was watching both today and at the festival, I thought, 'Why is their style so much different than the British actors you see on the West End and in movies?'Well, because... and I'm going to sound like a huge snob in saying this... but I think it's because a lot of the young performers I'm seeing aren't good. I could be wrong- it could just be that I'm used to seeing a very different approach to performance. But I will say that most of the actors I know back home have much closer performance styles to the actors you see onstage and in films, and I consider many of the actors I know to be quite skilled (and I'm including my British classmates in this.)
I know I just showed myself for the snob that I am, and I could be mistaken; who am I to decide what "good" acting is? But either way, I don't appreciate the acting that most college and university-age performers do here.
2) Burning things onstage in buckets. They looooove to do that here. I actually love it, too. (Watching it, that is. I've never been in a show where they've burned something onstage.) It's dramatic, it often concludes a heavy scene and when they bring the lights down leaving just the flames, it looks awesome. I do think it's funny that, while I've never seen it done in America, they've done it in 90% of the shows I've seen here... and I'm kind of disappointed when it didn't happen in the other 10% ;)
3) Bowing twice. This has been one of my biggest pet peeves in seeing theatre here. At the end of pretty much every show, no matter what level it is, the actors bow twice. This bugs me. A lot. It's not that I don't think that the actors deserve a second bow- I've mentioned how high the caliber of shows here is- but I do believe that there should only be a second bow is the audience is asking for it. The actors always bow twice, regardless of whether the audience is still applauding or if they've already begun to gather up their things and leave. When the latter is happening and the actors come out again for a second bow... it's kind of anticlimactic, and I wish the actors wouldn't put themselves in that position. Let the audience ask for you, don't beg for their attention.
(I will say though, to the actors' credit in the show I did here, they went by the audience. We only bowed twice once. Every other time, we would see if they wanted a second. When we realised they didn't, we didn't go out. I was very pleased.)
4) Unreserved seating. Many of the non-West End shows have this. I think I like it. All tickets are sold at a flat rate and it's first come, first serve. I often get a great seat at these shows.
5) I've mentioned the difference in dress code before, but I still hold fast to my opinion that one should look nice to go to the theatre. I don't think I'll ever stop doing it.
Something not theatre-related that I found interesting today: after the show, my friend and I were talking to one of the other actors, another one who had been quite good in it. My friend told her that I was an exchange student from America and the girl said, "Oh, that's so cool, I love Americans!" While this was lovely to hear, I always wonder what makes people love us or hate us just because we're American?
Now I should stop being lazy and evasive go work on my script...
1) While I enjoyed watching my friend in the show- she was definitely one of the best performers in it- I noticed that most of the actors have a certain... way of performing. I hesitate to call it a "style," but maybe that is what it is. Whatever it is, I don't like it. I noticed the same approach in about 75-80% of the people who performed in the New Writer's Festival (thankfully, none of them in my pieces.)
It's not everyone- none of my classmates, that I've observed, take this approach to performance, but it seems like a fair majority of young performers do. As I was watching both today and at the festival, I thought, 'Why is their style so much different than the British actors you see on the West End and in movies?'Well, because... and I'm going to sound like a huge snob in saying this... but I think it's because a lot of the young performers I'm seeing aren't good. I could be wrong- it could just be that I'm used to seeing a very different approach to performance. But I will say that most of the actors I know back home have much closer performance styles to the actors you see onstage and in films, and I consider many of the actors I know to be quite skilled (and I'm including my British classmates in this.)
I know I just showed myself for the snob that I am, and I could be mistaken; who am I to decide what "good" acting is? But either way, I don't appreciate the acting that most college and university-age performers do here.
2) Burning things onstage in buckets. They looooove to do that here. I actually love it, too. (Watching it, that is. I've never been in a show where they've burned something onstage.) It's dramatic, it often concludes a heavy scene and when they bring the lights down leaving just the flames, it looks awesome. I do think it's funny that, while I've never seen it done in America, they've done it in 90% of the shows I've seen here... and I'm kind of disappointed when it didn't happen in the other 10% ;)
3) Bowing twice. This has been one of my biggest pet peeves in seeing theatre here. At the end of pretty much every show, no matter what level it is, the actors bow twice. This bugs me. A lot. It's not that I don't think that the actors deserve a second bow- I've mentioned how high the caliber of shows here is- but I do believe that there should only be a second bow is the audience is asking for it. The actors always bow twice, regardless of whether the audience is still applauding or if they've already begun to gather up their things and leave. When the latter is happening and the actors come out again for a second bow... it's kind of anticlimactic, and I wish the actors wouldn't put themselves in that position. Let the audience ask for you, don't beg for their attention.
(I will say though, to the actors' credit in the show I did here, they went by the audience. We only bowed twice once. Every other time, we would see if they wanted a second. When we realised they didn't, we didn't go out. I was very pleased.)
4) Unreserved seating. Many of the non-West End shows have this. I think I like it. All tickets are sold at a flat rate and it's first come, first serve. I often get a great seat at these shows.
5) I've mentioned the difference in dress code before, but I still hold fast to my opinion that one should look nice to go to the theatre. I don't think I'll ever stop doing it.
Something not theatre-related that I found interesting today: after the show, my friend and I were talking to one of the other actors, another one who had been quite good in it. My friend told her that I was an exchange student from America and the girl said, "Oh, that's so cool, I love Americans!" While this was lovely to hear, I always wonder what makes people love us or hate us just because we're American?
Now I should stop being lazy and evasive go work on my script...
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Venice Day 4
Yesterday, I left you with some cliffhangers :p Now I shall fill in the gaps.
Our fourth day in Venice was very relaxed, as we only had one thing planned before our flight at 10:30 pm. After we checked out of our hotel, we went across the street to the supermarket for our usual breakfast of chocolate chip rolls and milk (they're so good that Adrienne brought a pack of rolls back with her.) Then we hopped on the bus to Venice where we attempted to find the Jewish ghetto. Despite the fact that we kept choosing landmarks that weren't on the map, we found it pretty quickly.
It was a really interesting sight to see, though it was a much smaller area than I expected. However, never having been to a ghetto, I'm not sure what I was expecting in the first place. They had a good number of memorial plaques on the few walls that were there; they've taken down most of them. I was surprised that people still lived there, many (possibly all?) of them Hasidic Jews. Adrienne observed that the ones that lived in Venice were much less somber than the ones that live in Brooklyn :p
We weren't sure what we wanted to do once we were done at the ghetto, but we didn't want to waste our last day there, so we ended up strolling around and using a very advanced system of choosing which way to go- were there stairs or not? We always chose the way with the least, because after three days of walking over bridges, you kind of hate them, as pretty as they are.
After wandering around for a bit, we decided to go back to Mestre, where our hotel was, and explore that, since we hadn't really done so except to find a restaurant. By this point, it was about 4:30 pm. We planned to have dinner around 6:30, grab our luggage from the hotel, and head to Venice to catch the bus to the airport. However once 5:50 arrived, we were both collapsed in front of our restaurant of choice and after awhile, decided to just eat then and go to the airport early (the fact that we really needed to use their bathroom might have had something to do with it, too- you have to pay to use public restrooms in Italy.) But when we tried to get into the building, it was closed. So were all of the other ones. The only eateries open were cafes and "snack bars" (they looooove this name for a place to eat. It's everywhere.) But a cafe or snack bar was not exactly what we were looking for. We needed dinner, not a pasty. But the Europeans, they dine at odd times.
In the end, we grabbed our bags from the hotel, and headed for Venice, deciding that we'd head to the airport now and eat there, since it would be dinnertime by the time we got there. As it turns out, it was really good that we headed out at the time we did, because some problems ensued.
We got off the bus in Venice, and I told Adrienne she could wait at the edge of the crowd for me to get my bus ticket to Treviso rather than drag all of her bags through the big crowd, since she already had her ticket. The queues were really short, and I got in line behind a French couple. Bad decision. They spent far too many minutes ordering two hundred euros worth of tickets. Besides it being a big order, they couldn't understand the ticket officer and vice versa, so it took about five tries for them to get their order across. At this point, Adrienne probably thought I had been kidnapped. When I finally got up to the window, I found out that it was the wrong company. I had to get my ticket somewhere else. Where? "Over there," was the only answer I got before I was dismissed. I asked another worker and was given the actual place to go- across the street. I went back to Adrienne to tell her that we both had to get new tickets and, short story shorter, we did.
Now the next problem- where was our bus? There was one labelled as going to Treviso, but it was the wrong company. There was one with the right company, but there was no destination displayed and no bus driver. I asked someone if they knew where we should go and he told me "D2." We didn't see a D2 parking space, so I thought perhaps I had misheard him and it was B2. We looked for that, but the parking spaces went from B1 to B8. After wandering around more, someone else saw our confusion and pointed out our bus- a vehicle labelled with the name of a different company, that was at the edge of the parking lot blocking a sign that did indeed say D2.
All of this took about half an hour. It was another fifteen to twenty minutes before the bus left for the aeroporto. Yet our adventure was still not over. Once we got to the airport, Adrienne and I had to split up, since she had to check her suitcase (which she has lovingly named Louis. If you've seen Leap Year, you'll appreciate this.)
I got through more quickly and went up to security. This time, I had packed all of my liquids into a properly closing bag, and I thought I was set. Then I walked through the detector and it alarmed. I realised I left my cell phone in my pocket and put it through the proper way, but I still set off the alarm. They used the wand thingy and it beeped. This caused them to look very concerned and I was sternly called signorina and pointed to a corner, where I was patted down and my bag taken away to a security station. They opened it and were very confused by my travel water bottle and retainer case and wiped it down with some sort of paper, which they ran tests on. Through all this, I was being shoved around in a way that suggested they expected me to detonate at any second. They looked kind of disappointed when the test came back negative for whatever substance they were testing for, and I was allowed to go. I still have no clue what set off the alarm- maybe because I had a euro coin in my pocket? I don't know. Either way, this kind of situation is like being carded at a bar or for an R-rated movie (which happens to me more than not)- it's actually sort of amusing when you know you're in the right.
When Adrienne got through, I grabbed something to eat and then we went through the second-to-last bit of security, passed through the last about forty five minutes and then got on the plane. I've heard some not so great things about the company I used, RyanAir: that they nickel and dime you, that it's unsafe, this and that. But I was never charged a penny (or, I guess, pence) more than I paid a month ago and I never felt unsafe. Maybe I just got lucky, but I had a very good experience.
We were very happy to be back in London- if I was happy, I can't imagine how Adrienne felt, since she was away for a week longer than I was. We had an hour long bus ride back to our road, and then we were finally home, both of us exhausted.
Regarding my pictures, I've decided to just add them into the original entries, so check look back to those to see some pictures :)
Today I did some errand-y things- a small grocery shopping trip since I'll be leaving again in two days, the library, where I got some hopefully awesome books, and printing out my documents for said trips. Going to another write-in tonight!
Our fourth day in Venice was very relaxed, as we only had one thing planned before our flight at 10:30 pm. After we checked out of our hotel, we went across the street to the supermarket for our usual breakfast of chocolate chip rolls and milk (they're so good that Adrienne brought a pack of rolls back with her.) Then we hopped on the bus to Venice where we attempted to find the Jewish ghetto. Despite the fact that we kept choosing landmarks that weren't on the map, we found it pretty quickly.
It was a really interesting sight to see, though it was a much smaller area than I expected. However, never having been to a ghetto, I'm not sure what I was expecting in the first place. They had a good number of memorial plaques on the few walls that were there; they've taken down most of them. I was surprised that people still lived there, many (possibly all?) of them Hasidic Jews. Adrienne observed that the ones that lived in Venice were much less somber than the ones that live in Brooklyn :p
We weren't sure what we wanted to do once we were done at the ghetto, but we didn't want to waste our last day there, so we ended up strolling around and using a very advanced system of choosing which way to go- were there stairs or not? We always chose the way with the least, because after three days of walking over bridges, you kind of hate them, as pretty as they are.
After wandering around for a bit, we decided to go back to Mestre, where our hotel was, and explore that, since we hadn't really done so except to find a restaurant. By this point, it was about 4:30 pm. We planned to have dinner around 6:30, grab our luggage from the hotel, and head to Venice to catch the bus to the airport. However once 5:50 arrived, we were both collapsed in front of our restaurant of choice and after awhile, decided to just eat then and go to the airport early (the fact that we really needed to use their bathroom might have had something to do with it, too- you have to pay to use public restrooms in Italy.) But when we tried to get into the building, it was closed. So were all of the other ones. The only eateries open were cafes and "snack bars" (they looooove this name for a place to eat. It's everywhere.) But a cafe or snack bar was not exactly what we were looking for. We needed dinner, not a pasty. But the Europeans, they dine at odd times.
In the end, we grabbed our bags from the hotel, and headed for Venice, deciding that we'd head to the airport now and eat there, since it would be dinnertime by the time we got there. As it turns out, it was really good that we headed out at the time we did, because some problems ensued.
We got off the bus in Venice, and I told Adrienne she could wait at the edge of the crowd for me to get my bus ticket to Treviso rather than drag all of her bags through the big crowd, since she already had her ticket. The queues were really short, and I got in line behind a French couple. Bad decision. They spent far too many minutes ordering two hundred euros worth of tickets. Besides it being a big order, they couldn't understand the ticket officer and vice versa, so it took about five tries for them to get their order across. At this point, Adrienne probably thought I had been kidnapped. When I finally got up to the window, I found out that it was the wrong company. I had to get my ticket somewhere else. Where? "Over there," was the only answer I got before I was dismissed. I asked another worker and was given the actual place to go- across the street. I went back to Adrienne to tell her that we both had to get new tickets and, short story shorter, we did.
Now the next problem- where was our bus? There was one labelled as going to Treviso, but it was the wrong company. There was one with the right company, but there was no destination displayed and no bus driver. I asked someone if they knew where we should go and he told me "D2." We didn't see a D2 parking space, so I thought perhaps I had misheard him and it was B2. We looked for that, but the parking spaces went from B1 to B8. After wandering around more, someone else saw our confusion and pointed out our bus- a vehicle labelled with the name of a different company, that was at the edge of the parking lot blocking a sign that did indeed say D2.
All of this took about half an hour. It was another fifteen to twenty minutes before the bus left for the aeroporto. Yet our adventure was still not over. Once we got to the airport, Adrienne and I had to split up, since she had to check her suitcase (which she has lovingly named Louis. If you've seen Leap Year, you'll appreciate this.)
I got through more quickly and went up to security. This time, I had packed all of my liquids into a properly closing bag, and I thought I was set. Then I walked through the detector and it alarmed. I realised I left my cell phone in my pocket and put it through the proper way, but I still set off the alarm. They used the wand thingy and it beeped. This caused them to look very concerned and I was sternly called signorina and pointed to a corner, where I was patted down and my bag taken away to a security station. They opened it and were very confused by my travel water bottle and retainer case and wiped it down with some sort of paper, which they ran tests on. Through all this, I was being shoved around in a way that suggested they expected me to detonate at any second. They looked kind of disappointed when the test came back negative for whatever substance they were testing for, and I was allowed to go. I still have no clue what set off the alarm- maybe because I had a euro coin in my pocket? I don't know. Either way, this kind of situation is like being carded at a bar or for an R-rated movie (which happens to me more than not)- it's actually sort of amusing when you know you're in the right.
When Adrienne got through, I grabbed something to eat and then we went through the second-to-last bit of security, passed through the last about forty five minutes and then got on the plane. I've heard some not so great things about the company I used, RyanAir: that they nickel and dime you, that it's unsafe, this and that. But I was never charged a penny (or, I guess, pence) more than I paid a month ago and I never felt unsafe. Maybe I just got lucky, but I had a very good experience.
We were very happy to be back in London- if I was happy, I can't imagine how Adrienne felt, since she was away for a week longer than I was. We had an hour long bus ride back to our road, and then we were finally home, both of us exhausted.
Regarding my pictures, I've decided to just add them into the original entries, so check look back to those to see some pictures :)
Today I did some errand-y things- a small grocery shopping trip since I'll be leaving again in two days, the library, where I got some hopefully awesome books, and printing out my documents for said trips. Going to another write-in tonight!
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