Of the Stage

"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts..."

As quoted from Shakespeare's famous cross-dressing comedy, "As You Like It" and one of the most famous monologues in the Bard's repertoire. It was also the play that led me back into London, for the last time, to the Globe theater (the second version since the first version burned down during the English Renaissance). This was also where I got to play another part: groundlings.



We were the Elizabethan poor villagers who could not afford the seats but instead, could only stand. Despite that, where we were, in front of the center stage steps, were the best view in the house. Orlando and Rosaline were close enough to touch and from that vantage point, I could see every flicker of emotion that passed their faces and every quirk in their body language. I had never been so close before in the theater and now, the mezzanine will never be the same again.

In truth, it was the best 5 pounds I had ever spent and a poignant last overnight trip, at the place where I first came into England. In a way, listening to this speech was a fitting in since it is just indicative of the end of another act in my life. And as I'm writing this, two days before I fly back home, the Bard's words have never held more resonance. It is time for the scene to change and for the actress to bid adieu to the audience. Adieu!



"Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything."

P.S. To complete my Shakespearean experience, I also made a pilgrimage six days later to Stratford Upon Avon, the childhood home of the bard and the place where he died (now converted into a little Shakespeare town with matching Renaissance style buildings and streets). There, in the backyard of his childhood house, I also encountered the monologue again. We never escape the bard.

Of Antiques and Age

image courtesy of Wikipedia

"How much is this?" I asked the salesperson, holding up a cameo broach/pendant. It was a small, delicate pink seashell set against a gold plating, with a white profile of a elaborately coiffed woman in the center. Just the sight of it inspired feelings of regal gravity and a delicate femininity. On the back, it had a little tag that dated it to Edwardian age. I was smitten.

"30 pounds," said the salesperson hurriedly, before becoming occupied by other patrons, all with more money than a poor college student who was both shopping for herself (when she should not be) and for her family members at home. At this point, I am used to this kind of (what we young people call) "ageism," having encountered it in restaurants in Italy where the waiter took the longest time to serve four college students in sweatshirts and jeans, and in pubs in London where we were asked for ID to prove that we were 18.

Sadly, 30 pounds for a pendant was a bit more expensive than I thought but I was grieved to part with the beautiful object. "Does it come with a chain?" I asked, hoping for some kind of redemption for the price.

She looked at me with a gaze that spoke of weariness from price negotiations and cheap tourists (and students) and answered a resounding "No, the price is only for the broach." With a small amount of grief, I put down the pendant and walked away, cursing the student budget that prevented me from buying things such as cookies or a leather purse in Italy.

But the bright spot was, there were still more stalls to pillage and find the best price. After all, I did not go into London for nothing that day (there was that Picasso exhibit). Mondays at the Covent Garden, a small shopping district in the center of London, was antiques. Stalls after stalls at the marketplace sold everything from antique jewelry, teapots, mirrors, and silver forks. All of the object beckoned to me, especially the teapot, yet sadly, there was no way to buy them and safely transport such fragile objects home.


image courtesy of Wikipedia

And at 50 pounds for a teapot, I was not willing to take the chance. It is the price to pay for being cheap and right now, for being young and relatively inexperienced to bargaining or even really working. Yet, at the moment, there was also another odd juxtaposition. For despite still being relatively young, there is that feeling of kind of growing up.



I am walking around London alone after having deciding last week to go (reasoning that I should go to the Picasso exhibit at the National Gallery but in actually, just needing an excuse to go to London). I boarded the bus alone and navigated the subway alone, without any assistance. Being able to stroll and not having to worry about getting back by curfew, deciding where I want to go and when I want to get there is a kind of freedom that sometimes makes me glad about getting a little bit older and wiser.

Not to mention that I did find a bigger cameo necklace two aisles down that I was willing to pay for (and which I have not been willing to take off ever since buying) and some gifts for my loved ones back home. And of course, getting to walk around Covent Garden, surrounded by music from a live string quartet...So in a way, not a bad Monday.



Britishisms:

• Salespeople are not obligated to say hello to you or wish you a good day. They're not really expected to overtly cater to customers, which kind of makes the whole sales transaction go a bit cold sometimes.
• At the grocery store, you bag your own groceries, which make for a very slow checkout experience.
• "You all right?" = "How are you?" They do not really think that something is the matter with you when they ask you that question, it's just a casual inquiry.
  

Of London, Part Deux, Cont.

Sunday
The next day, we had to return back to campus by nighttime yet that did not deter us from taking in another one or two sights. This time, I got a better picture of Trafalgar Square in the daylight.

Not only that but we also visited my personal favorite space which appealed to the art historical geek within me: The National Gallery, where half of my textbook stems from. Sadly, they wouldn't let anyone take photographs (which is absurd since you can do so at the Metropolitan and MOMA in New York City, so long as the flash is not on). Not only that but I wanted to take pictures next to the paintings that up until now, I have only read about. Sadly, I only have my memories of the pieces such as the Jan Van Eyck's "Arnolfini Portrait," Paul Delaroche's "Execution of Lady Jane Grey" (the most popular painting in the gallery during the 1800's), and Georges Seurat "The Bathers." Not to mention the many Monet, Degas, Titian, and Rembrant pieces available for my eyes.

The strange thing is, for me, I grow restless within history museums yet when it comes to art museums, I cannot get enough of it. At one point, my travel mates had to wait for me to catch up since I was lingering in the Impressionist section of the gallery.

Oh, so many hours of reading and analyzation suddenly came back to me upon seeing those pieces and it just enhanced my appreciation of them all the more. For any type of art, whether it is classical, Renaissance, modern, or otherwise, one should always have a good background within the pieces. In that way, you gain more insight and pleasure upon viewing them than you would otherwise.

The highlight of my day

After an excersion into the National Portrait Gallery within the same building and a lunch in Chinatown (which led to another lurch of homesickness upon viewing the red balloons that signaled Tết), we braved the sprinkles of rain to make our way towards Buckingham Palace.

To say the least, it was an impressive sight and it's easy to see with such a grand structure why Britain holds onto its monarchy so tightly despite the system being all but ornamental at this point. It gives a regalness to the nation, a sense of heritage and an awareness of the oldest traditions.

"God save the Queen"

My final thoughts on this trip to London includes a sense of wonder, admiration, and chagrin. It is so hard to imagine that almost a thousand years of history is located within such a grand city.

That history is prevalent within the actions of the English; it's very based in heritage, in upholding tradition, whether that is through the changing of the guards, through the lampposts, or through preservation of the various architecture within London (or even, any other British town). For a girl from California - who has only ever been a part of modern architecture yet still part of an ethnic family who still upholds cultural traditions - London is wonderful to see and to experience, if only because I understand that need to hang onto your heritage, to cling onto that valuable piece of yourself that if gone, is lost forever.

Furthermore, I admire the respect allocated by the Brits to their city; you can see this in the spotless sidewalks (I did not see anyone litter nor were there large amounts of wastepaper baskets in the city. Yet, the streets were still spotless), the old buildings, regal and meticulously maintained, through the iconic red phone booths, and especially through the vibrant life that permeates what is commonly seen as an old city. It's timeless, both new and old, and more beautiful in its multifaceted nature.

Sadly, I've been here for two weekends now and I've only seen a small fraction of the city. And I can not wait to come back sometime soon and see more of it. Not to mention that contrary to popular opinion, the air is wonderfully clear here and there is no fog. Sweet!

Of London, Part Deux, Cont.

Saturday

Upon waking up on Saturday after an uneasy night and greeted by a sour throat in the morning, my travel mates headed off to what proved to be a day within the pages of history. One thing that I do admire about London is how central most of the famous locations are. If you look on the map, a majority of the most famous structures is located within the center of London along the Thames. With the exception of the British Museum, most of them are close to the river itself, which signifies the importance of that body of water within British history and culture. Yet I digress, on to the sights!

Our first historical stop of the day: the Tower of London. Contrary to popular opinion, and my misconception due to many a British historical documentaries/movies, the Tower of London is not only one tower (a la Rapunzel) but rather, it's an estate that has been occupied by many a British rulers and subjects. It's built in the shape of a square with the White Tower (not like the "Lord of the Rings") occupying the center.

After paying the 12 pound student rate to enter such a noble establishment, we proceeded to make our way around the tower. Starting from the Medieval Palace, once occupied by Edward I and where he sought refuge for a time.

Then, we proceeded to move around the establishment with such sights as:

The White Tower, built by William the Conqueror in 1100AD and currently houses the armor of kings and knights who defended the tower.

Yet, the most interesting part, the reason why I was so eager to visit such a gloomy place, was the infamous Beauchamp tower. This was where Anne Bolyn, Guy Fawkes, Jane Grey, and particularly Elizabeth I was imprisoned. Funnily enough, it was not located in the center of the Tower but rather, to the side.

It always looked so much taller in film...

What I noticed that was most interesting was the shape of the windows looking out.

Is it a mocking gesture or was it used to convey a sense of false hope and perhaps even piety? Amazing the power of religion.

Finally, there was the most chilling part of all: the torture tower. Of course, it is nameless (as well it should be) and the entrance to it differs from the other entrances in that you are led downward into the chamber rather than up spiraling staircases. It is there that I could feel the ghosts of so many years and looking at the model of the torture devices employed on prisoners, I was made aware of the sadistic nature of humanity, and how dark we have gone.

What kind of person could invent such a punishment? And who could actually use it on someone? What does it say about humanity that such a device exists?

Walking through the steps and halls that span hundreds of years, where people such as Elizabeth and William Raleigh were imprisoned, where countless others were tortured, the same steps that so many kings and prisoners once walked, I was quickly struck by an otherworldly sense of disorientation. From the etching on certain walls within the building, the history just seemed to permeate the entire structure, an uncanny sense of lost souls and supreme acts of human cruelty. I was particularly struck by how new and clean the walls of the entire structure still looked (albeit some places were in a state of renovation and were blocked off). It was as if the entire castle had been suspended in time and we were just travelers from another world. We didn't seem to belong to the structure.

Following this excursion through time was a short Underground ride north of the Thames to the British Museum, a large, dominating, wonderful piece of a building. And the best part about it? It's free! For the budget traveler, the best places to go when in London are museums because not only do you not have to pay to enter (save for viewing new exhibitions), but you are privy to such a large reservoir of history, culture, and really incredibly sights.

There, we spent two hours rushing through everything, trying to take it all in. In our rush, we saw:

The Elgin Marbles, the pieces of Grecian history that sparked a war of controversy over their proper owners. Lets leave that legal bit aside and just admire the thousands of years old craftsmanship.

Mummies. Lots and lots of mummies...

Roman artifacts, such as this gladiator helmet. Imagine Russell Crow wearing it.

And believe or not, that took us two hours so as you can see, we barely grazed the surface. I feel like even if I had a day to spend, I would still not uncover all this museum has to offer. There's so much to see and not enough time to do so, which is frustrating. Yet, it is also amazing how much information and history is encased within this one space and how lucky we are to be able to still see such historical relics and monuments, that they haven't all been lost.

After the two hours, brains partially fried, we decided (after stopping quickly at Oxford Circus to buy one our compatriots a new pair of shoes) that it was dinnertime. And what better way to end our day of history than to go to an old-fashioned, English pub.

Located on Fleet Street (beware the demon barbers), the Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese had been around since 1538 and was rebuilt in 1666 after the Great Fire destroyed the old building. This pub, located within an nondescript alleyway on Fleet Street, has seen such famous writers as Charles Dickens, Mark Twain, Alfred Tennyson, and apparently Ben Jonson. The interior belies its age with its wood paneling, low staircases, cellars (there was a bar down there), and dim lighting. And the food wasn't too shabby either.

After dinner was a long, cold walk, back to the nearest tube station where on the way, we passed by Saint Peters. Most of us were cold, tired, and sore yet it was the perfect ending to a day of wandering through the pages of history.

Of London, Part Deux

So last weekend, a group of 4 American exchange students decided to tackle London. Some were doing it for the second time, the others, it was only their first attempt. Little did they know, that the city was mightier than they expected and they only managed to get to 6 destinations over the course of a weekend.

On Friday the 23rd, due to a certain mess-up with the train ticket, I took a train from Coventry Station to London all by myself while the rest of my party took a separate train from Leamington Spa. Yet, it wasn't too bad because the two hour ride allowed for some quiet time and admiration of the picturesque English green countryside, the site of admiration for many an English poets. Not to mention that since the rails were electric, the train was incredibly comfortable and spacious (each seat has a table for your food!). Though sadly, no trolleys a la Harry Potter.

"a fair green country under a swift sunrise" - JRR Tolkien

With sheep!

Upon arriving in London, I then braved the London Underground all by myself. Now London differs from New York in one primary respect: while New York was built on an orderly, gridlike plan (and in that case, so are many American cities), London seems to have been arranged in a haphazard manner with a myriad of large streets which divide into subsidiary streets, similar to the threads of a spider web. Suffice to say, nothing follows a grid, not even the subway. Despite that, the London Tube is incredibly easy to use, if only for the fact that each individual train lines are divided by color and the stops are clear on the map. Not only that, but the trains differ from NY subways in how clean they are. There is no bum sitting in the corner and no musky, slightly questionable smell. Instead, everything is white, clean, and the bums (if there are any) drink out of actual bottles rather than paper bags.

The way to the underground is paved by a big red target. Very handy for the visually impaired.

That Friday, after checking in at our hostel, Journey's Smoking Barrel, we proceeded to explore the central London (where we would predominately remain for the next day and a half). This included sights that I saw the very first night I came to London only this time, it was 100 times better since I was a) not jetlagged and b) well-fed. First stop was Waterloo where the London Eye awaited me yet again. And this time, I did not forget to bring my camera. According to my guidebook, it's the Eiffel Tower of London, with the best view of the city for 15 pounds. Sadly, since the sun was quickly setting (at freakin' 4!), we decided to save a journey up the Eye for another, sunnier day.

"My grandma, what big eyes you have!"

Next was a stroll along Westminster Bridge and Westminster itself, where we passed the beautiful Big Ben at dusk. Now, the building is not actually called Big Ben, but rather, it is the name for the large bell within the clock. These days, native Brits use the name to refer to the large clock.

Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament at sunset

I'm sure quite a number of people know about the delicacies of British pub culture, particularly its focus on authentic British cuisine and beer. Yet, I did not realize how prevalent pubs were in Britain until we were walking around and exploring the city and there was a pub ON EVERY BLOCK. Americans have our Starbucks on every corner, the Brits have their pubs. At one of the pubs we stopped at, they had authentic British desserts, which included spotted dick, which surprisingly, tastes pretty harmless in comparison to its name (like most British foods I think, case in point "bangers and mash" - see Britishism dictionary below).

Spotted Dick, or basically fruit cake in custard. Surprisingly tasty, if a bit bland (Brits don't eat as much sugar as Americans).

The first night in the hostel was spent with me bemused at my travel mates for not bringing their own towels. For future travelers at hostel, please be aware that hostels do not give you towels. You have to pay for them if you want to use one. So be like Douglass Adams and always bring a towel with you when you're traveling.

"A towel...is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitch hiker can have. Partly it has great practical value - you can wrap it around you for warmth ....you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V...wet it for use in hand-to-hand combat, you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough." - Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
Word

For anyone wondering, a hostel is your college dorm experience where you slept in a bedroom with a multitude (in my case 5 other people, though certain rooms can hold up to 24 people) of folks and shared a (sometimes questionable) bathroom with the entire floor. Yet not bad for 15 pounds a night. It also comes with a common room and a kitchen on each floor, free continental breakfast, and clean (hopefully) sheets. And there is usually an age restriction of 25 years or towards students only (if you have a real job, stay at a real hotel).

Stay tuned in the next post for an extended account of our whole Saturday in London.

Random Britishisms:

• "Cheers" = another word for thank you. So when someone says cheers, they are not toasting you (and they say it A LOT)
• "Top up your phone" = add more money to your phone. This applies to people who have a pay as you go plan, especially when certain plans gives you 200 text messages when you "top off" 10 pounds on your phone. Text messaging is a very big thing here, even moreso than calling people.
• "pants" = underwear (aka: "knickers"). I found this out via a humorous exchange with my flatmates where they asked me what I was wearing for a night out and I replied, "dress pants" and they looked at me like I was a weirdo (or a harlot). Apparently, dress pants are "trousers" or "slacks."
• "pub crawl," it's a British student excursion which consists of getting on one of the lines on in the Underground and at every stop, go to the nearest pub, get a drink, then go back to the line towards the next stop. I'm guessing that towards the end of the night, the lines all start to blur together with humorous results, I'm sure.
• "bangers and mash" - sausage with mashed potatoes and gravy. Surprisingly tasty, if a bit salty. And the sausage is definately not as questionable as at home sausage.
  

Of the Importance of Sleep

At the end of my 2nd full day of London (January 3rd), I slept better than I ever remember. One good thing about forcing yourself through a long, busy day, you get your rest, which is untimely, undisturbed, and ever so peaceful.

Funded by the Educational Abroad Program and led by our lovely EAP guide Jenn (whom I won't let the fact that she graduated from USC be a fact against her), the schedule for the day included (remember I was half-asleep the whole day due to not getting a full-night's sleep the night before):

Orientation meeting at 8:30AM - 2 hours

A short, teasing tour through the Tate Museum of Modern Art (which contained Marcel DuChamp's "Bride Getting Stripped Bare by her Bachelors" to which I squealed) - 1 hour



The way to the museum, which includes the Waterloo Bridge on the Thames. Notice the crown on the lamppost, to indicate that this is near Victoria Street and thus royal.



Ice Skating at Somerset House which was both magical and kind of frightening with all of the people - 1 hour


Wandering around London trying to get a cellphone and braving the cold and traffic - 2 hours

The one and only Trafalger Square at dusk.

An early 2 course dinner at the so-high-class-shit-I-can't-believe-I-walked-in-wearing-my-UCLA-sweatshirt Criterion where I had the most wonderful smoked salmon appetizer (with a delicious cheese whose name I do not know but damnit I want it again) and the most tender, most expensive steak I have ever had - 1 hour


The menu didn't even have prices on it so I can only imagine how much this rib-eye cost.

A play entitled "Potted Potter" where I saw the entire 7 Harry Potter books condensed, satorized, and as a result, side-clutchingly hilarious - 70 minutes



"Catch the Golden Snitch."

Finally getting a good night's rest at the end of a long, memorable day in London - priceless.

Of Jetlag and Beer

To inaugurate the very first post of my abroad blog, I would like to dedicate a blog to the funness of jetlag. The lesson of this post is, if possible, fall asleep on the plane, it'll save you tons of exhaustion.

I left LAX on January 1st at 9:30 Pacific Standard Time to go up to San Francisco where from there, I would commence my true journey to England. Well, I land in SF at 11AM and the flight to London's Heathrow Airport (the airport in "Love Actually") is 10 hours long, on which I slept about 2 hours while the other 8 hours was devoted to watching "Bottle Shock" (which made me want to drink, where the hell was the bar and why am I not 21 yet?) and "City of Embers" (kind of lame).

10 hours later, arrived at London Heathrow where the local time is 7AM and I just technically spent the whole day in an airplane crammed in a small chair filled with crying babies (why he hell do people take kids on trips?). I then proceeded to cart two suitcases, a backpack filled with books (yes I am a geek), and my laptop bag through the airport (damn long terminals), to the London Express (a 15 minute train ride into the heart of London in which I lose my beautiful, white, down-filled puffer jacket), and roll it through Picadelly Station. A mocha latte at the station (everything is less sweet here, and that is why Europeans are so skinny), a conversation with a very nice American girl that I met on the train, it is almost 11AM. I hail a taxi and 10 pounds later, get to the hotel where I realize, fuck, I can't check in until 2PM. It's 10, I'm tired as hell and sore from head to toe (I have bruises on my legs to prove it) and all I want to do is sleep.

Luckily, I am able to leave my luggage at the storeroom in the hotel while I get to wander around London for 4 hours. Now, if you were to allow me to do this while I was awake and lucid, I would have probably appreciated it all the more. As it was, it was an American zombie walking around London, a shame since I spent 2 hours in the British Library where I saw original manuscripts of Shakespearean plays, Bibles, Charlotte Bronte's "Jane Eyre," and Beatles lyrics and all I could think about was a bed (and why I didn't remember to take my camera out of my backpack before I left the hotel). It would have been a geekfest had I not been exhausted and kind of brainnumb. Yet, it was wonderful all the same.

Suffice to say, I did not sleep until 12AM that night (only to be woken up at 7AM the next morning for a meeting at 8:30) and that was only after a guided boat ride on the Thames (to which I kind of dozed off), a pizza dinner (not hungry), and...(wait for it) an authentic English pub! At that moment, the entire group of tired, slightly cranky, UC abroad students decided to drown our exhaustion in booze (and in which I finally remember my camera).

And has it been worth all of this tiredness and trouble so far? Hell yeah, especially if you have beer and cider to help you through it.


This is what happens when you're tired and buzzed.