Off to Edinburgh

Alrighty, I'm off to Edinburgh in about 8 hours. I still have to pack. In fact, my clothes still have to dry. Damn.
While I wait for my things to dry, I'll fill you in on the goings on of the last several days.

I stole a comb from a Euro-hipster. More accurately, I sort of found it on the ground after it clattered out of his man-purse, and decided to pocket it instead of returning said comb to said Euro-hipster. As the very friendly Briton next to me on the street said at that moment: "Oh, I think he'll be fine without it," accompanied with a grin.

I've seen two shows since last post: a very well done pub-theatre showing of "The Comedy of Errors," and a mainstage production of "A Flea in Her Ear." To my great and giddy surprise, I discovered that Tom Hollander is starring in "A Flea" (For those of you who didn't nod your heads or gasp in understanding: Mr Hollander is the man who played Mr Collins in the Kiera Knightley rendition of Pride and Prejudice.), and the rest of the production was spectacular: I began to laugh before Act I was finished, and continued in this fashion throughout the rest of the play... including the duration of the ten-minute intermission.

I've been in class: and for such requirements, I've done something which I didn't expect to do 'til I was retired: I read Jane Eyre. I'll not go so far as to say that I enjoyed it, but it was indeed well written for it's subject matter, and I can appreciate that.

I have not done any laundry. This is just now becoming an irksome situation, as I am now staying up past my bedtime in order to have clean (and dry) clothes for the morning. This wouldn't be such a hassle staying up so late (past midnight at this point, straying towards 1am), save that I have to wake up in 5 hours to leave for Edinburgh in time. Ef.

I've had my first clubbing experience. In all blunt honesty, I had a more enjoyable time waiting in line for the club (Fabric) than the club itself. Allow me to explain. First off, it was past midnight when I found my friends in line, and we were instantly brought together by the communal enemies that were the looming rainclouds and the extremely long Line. At one point, we all abandoned the Line for a pub (both for drinks and for a warmer environment). Then, the return to the Line, and lo! and behold, we find ourselves behind a fellow American. Let's call her Lucy. The magical part, however, came a couple minutes into our conversations when she removed from her coat a kazoo-shaped pipe and began to smoke it. We were naturally curious; when we asked her what it was, she responded: "It's stuff from Dubai, wanna try it?" I can safely say that (besides the occasional celebratory cigar) the first tobacco that I've ever smoked, actually inhaled, I only know as Stuff from Dubai. Also, my ears were ringing for more than 20 hours after we left Fabric. That was some really efifng loud techno.

So, that's about all the exciting stuff I can readily remember. (Remember, I'm really tired.) I get on a train for Edinburgh, Scotland, at 7:45 tomorrow, and I'll be without an Internet device for the next several days. I'll letcha know how it is. Cold, I imagine.

St. Paul's, Greenwich, and Other Things

 St Paul's.

 These staircases and steps were kind of a bitch.

 500+ effing steps later.

 The Globe, rebuilt (200 yards away from the original site of the Globe..)

 We all know what this is called. No further caption.

 I just like this picture. 

 Welcome to Greenwich.

 Where Queen Elizabeth was born.

 At the Greenwich Observatory. This is a 24-hour clock. 

 On two sides of the globe. That's yours truly on the right, and my friend Scilla on the left.

SUCH A GOOD SHOW

Here are some of the pictures that I've taken whilst here. Enjoy.

The first two weeks and its Harrows.

Of all the things that are strange (or politely, 'different') about this country, the one thing that I am still very much not used to is the eggs. Driving on the wrong side of the road? Normal. Having a pint far before 5pm? Completely socially acceptable, and I'm very OK with that. Lighting up a fag outside? Not really healthy, but normal, and seen with frequency outside the doors of the noonday drinking pubs. The one thing, though, that still catches my eye every time is the storage of eggs in a grocery store.

They're not refrigerated. They just sit on a shelf next to the marmalade or breads. Sometimes they're shelved right next to a refrigerated compartment, and I always wonder why they don't just put those eggs someplace where they won't start going bad when there's a damn fridge right next to them. Jeez.


So, the last twoish weeks here in London have been quite the little adventure, including, but not limited to, visiting Buckingham, St. Paul's Cathedral, and being entranced by the efforts of Wicked and Billy Elliot, and can I say? This city is beautiful. Granted, any greenery is restricted to the various (gorgeous) parks that litter the place like lakes in Minnesota, but I still find this city to be splendid in all it's works (or those that I've seen so far). Enough has been said about the public transportation system here that I'll not waste any more time talking about it. Yeah, it's an engineering work of art, I'd say. Then you've got the public house system (colloquially referred to simply as 'pubs'), which is a wonder in of itself; cheapish food, a plethora of ales, ciders, and whatnot to choose from (and I do NOT mean what America is used to), and a general relaxed, cozy atmosphere. Mmmmmmmmm, pubs...

As far as the actual adventuring goes, I will say this: I still have a lot still to see, and plenty of time to see these things in, but I have decided that St. Paul's warrants another visit, and soon. And the dome is why: among those 500+ steps that lead one up to the lofty heights of the doming tiptop of the cathedral, there is a priceless collection of layman art posted, but unframed, along the walls, banisters, and ceiling beams. I mean to say, the graffiti. There is so much in the way of vandalisation and carving-your-name-into-several-hundred-year-old-plaster that I want to return to take pictures of just the graffiti. The one picture I took on my first trip can be seen in the separate picture post.

And as far as the shows I've seen go, I'll say this: Holy sh*t. So far, I've seen Billy Elliot and Wicked, and lemme tell you, those shows were by far the best shows I've ever seen. Wicked especially. (No offense meant to Elliot, but those accents were extremely heavy on my American ears, and I just don't like children. Sorry.) And now planning to see Les Misérables and Chicago, as well as a trip to the Tower of London and one or two of the city's galleries/museums (the British Museum and the National Gallery), I am very much looking forward to the next couple of weeks. And the entire semester, to be sure. But definitely the next couple of weeks. 

Oh yeah, and classes seem pretty cool too. 

@ the Airport

So, here I am, waiting for the next 15 minutes until my flight starts boarding. First to Washington, D.C., then over the pond to Heathrow and London. In all honesty, it still hasn't fully hit yet, the fact that I'll be in another country for the next several months. Granted, I've packed considerably more than I normally do for trips, but it still doesn't seem real that I'll be doing everything in not-U.S. It's started to sink in, however. Looking around my room after everything was jammed away in luggage, my desk cleared of miscellaneous papers and receipts, and all the rest of it; that was slightly unsettling. And I didn't say good-bye to my siblings: I was packing until late, and by the time I left my room they'd already gone to bed; it doesn't quite seem real that I won't be seeing them either for a while, at least not in person. That's why God invented Skype.


So here I am, sitting in a peeling leather seat in front of my gate, typing away next to complete strangers, and I can tell that a part of me still thinks that I'll be coming back in a couple of days, maybe after the weekend's out. My plane ticket says otherwise, so I'll just wait for Heathrow for the rest of me to catch up with the itinerary. I can tell this is gonna be one helluva trip.

Oh, and for all y'all who may complain about the new full-body scans: just be quiet. They're not that bad at all. Just a little buzzing noise that goes away before it gets annoying.