zero degrees longitude

Well, archery went well (ish).  I hit the target three out of about twenty tries.  Embedded the bolt in the wall more times than that.  Let me tell you something, Archery may seem like an easy sport, but when you pull against 25 kilos of tension and try and hold that right under your chin long enough to aim, it is exerting.  The president of the University of London’s archery club is nice though, and he and I had a bit of a conversation about football, which was awesome.  I knew disliking Ronaldo was not unique to me (the drama-queen, England-beating pretty boy).

So that was thursday.  Friday was the boat ride to and guided tour of Greenwich, a free excursion for NYU-L students.  I, unfortunately, couldn’t get my mind completely off the fact that Walter had a ten-hour layover in Heathrow, but I couldn’t get out there to visit.  Turns out he slept, and I’m glad for that.  The boat ride was chilly (but pretty), and the tour was even colder (there was a biting wind that day and we were outside for nearly an hour), but it was pretty cool.  Our tour guide was appropriately enthusiastic and apologetic about the weather, but she kept repeating the phrase “Greenwich’s maritime/naval history/past,” which is–admittedly–a big part of Greenwich, but she went a bit overboard when she talked about Henry VIII’s wives in relation to “Greenwich’s maritime past.”  (Though all I could think about when she was talking about Henry VIII’s wives–and she did give a brief history–was: “Now I’m going to marry my first wife, then I’m going to divorce her. Now, I know what you’re going to say, but stick with me, my story gets better! I’m going to marry my second wife, then I’m going to kill her! Cut her head off! Ah, you weren’t expecting that, were you? Third wife, going to shoot her! Fourth wife, put her in a bag! Fifth wife, into outer space! Sixth wife on a Rotissomat! Seventh wife will be made out of jam …” –Eddie Izzard, Dress to Kill.)  But other than the fact that I couldn’t feel my fingers for an hour and a half, Greenwich was actually really cute.  I went around with some girls after the tour and we ate fish and chips (meh) and went to the market to do a little browsing/shopping.

Other than that, I’ve done absolutely nothing exciting.  I spent a good deal of yesterday working on internship applications and exploring the tv rooms in the north tower of Nido (floor 8 had a tv i couldn’t turn on, floor 6 has a working tv but no wireless, floor 4 has wireless but the tv shows everything in pink and white and the negative of the image).  I ended up on floor 4, as I didn’t really need color to watch the football matches.  I just wanted a couch and internet and background noise (it’s not like I can change the channel anyway).  I was back there again today, but no where near as productive.  Instead I read the paper and watched Firefly online between matches (there was a rugby match on that I really didn’t understand, but now I kind of understand . . . at least the scoring bit . . . i think).  So yeah, chill few days.  Class tomorrow evening, and maybe Nido will even let me do laundry tomorrow (can’t use cash, have to “top up” my key card, but apparently I also have to register with the security robot, Olga, or something like that [head of security here is an Eastern European woman, who I call Olga, who often wears a "does not compute" expression when asked a question that demands more than an easy answer].

Also, the title refers to Greenwich being 0 degrees, dontcha know.

mom, you wanted a picture of me in my new trench-coat, so here you go.

everybody say, “fish and chips”

that red ball has something to do with marking/measuring 0degrees longitude . . . something to do with the ships synchronizing their chronometers . . .it was cold, cut me some slack.

Much ado

All right, I said I’d say a bit on Much Ado About Nothing, but it honestly seems so long ago.  It was great, starring Simon Russel Beale (who, Ashley, you may remember as Galileo, also at the National Theatre . . . also, ashley, you fell down the stairs?!?  that’s my job.  don’t you go getting clumsy and/or hurt in my absence just because i’m not there to do it first) and Zoe Wannamaker, and both were fantastic with astounding timing.  Perhaps the best part was when Benedick was eavesdropping on Don Pedro and Antonio and he ended up cornered in the “courtyard” and jumped into the 4′X4′ wading pool that was onstage.  Completely submerged and sopping once he exited.  It was an easy laugh, but a long and worthwhile one.  Hero had a bit of an overpronunciation problem, and Don John was a mumbler.  A nice surprise occured when the constable Dogberry appeared, and it was Mark Addy of The Full Monty and A Knight’s Tale (and, oh my god, he must have found out about Heath Ledger’s death right after the show.  how horrible!).  He was quite hilarious.

Yesterday, I attended my second class, Postcolonial Indian Lit, and it was the only class that has felt three hours long (though they all are).  THe prof surely knows his stuff, and I think it will get better once we have some reading to discuss, but he was a bit off his game yesterday.  Asking questions we didn’t know the answers to, not phrasing them in helpful terms, trying to cover too much while also giving too much detail for the intro class.  This is the class I’m least excited about, but I think it will be good.  I get to read Gandhi again and Nehru and Forster and read for the first time Kim and Salman Rushdie.

This morning was my first Modern Drama meeting, and we’re going to see some fantastic plays, including Mamet’s Speed-the-Plow with Kevin Spacey and Jeff Goldblum (Jew-love of my life).  THe prof is a really cool older British woman who has done a lot of directing and teaching, so I feel the class is in pretty able hands.  I’m in the NYU center’s computer lab at the moment, and I’m off to learn archery (if I can find the University of London’s archery range), then back to Nido to work on intership applications (Regenry publishing and Institute of Public History).

Much love.

I can’t quite believe it

Let me start off this post by saying that I’m saddened and deeply shocked by the recent news of Heath Ledger’s death. My brain’s mainly functioning on expletives of disbelief. I feel sorrow for his family and sadness for a world that had just barely seen his talent. It certainly puts a damper on what was to be a light-hearted, happy post. But the world continues to spin, and I’m sure at least mom and grammy (and maybe mica) want to know what I’ve been up to.

First things first: Congratulations on getting into UCLA, Mica!!! I’m sure there will be many more acceptance packages where that came from. Definitely keep me updated.

Now, onto what I’ve been up to. Yesterday, my one supposed class was canceled (on fairly short notice) and it was raining quite heavily, so I generally stayed in. Today, I had my first class, Shakespeare: Text and Performance, and it went swimmingly. The professor is an older British guy who knows his stuff (used to be an actor, now edits various editions of Shakespeare texts and writes on Renaissance theatre) and has a great dry wit and affability that are bonuses in a three-hour course with only eight students. After class, back to Nido for a brief respite then out again as a class to seek sustenance (originally supposed to be Wagamama, but ended up being take-away from EAT, due to time constraints) and to see Much Ado About Nothing at the National Theatre. I’ll probably do a longer post on that tomorrow. Short version: it was fantastic, if a little slow in the B- and C-plots.  But really, we’re all only watching for Beatrice and Benedick.

It was actually quite nice today, but it rained during the show (thankfully not after, though), and it’s gotten quite cold. I’m still reeling a bit from the Heath Ledger news and I have a ten am class tomorrow morning (it’s midnight), so for now: good night.

shibboleth

 

Well, my plan to get over jetlag worked brilliantly, as I’ve been able to go to sleep and awake at reasonable times since that first night.  I still tend to wake up a few hours in, but can almost always get back to sleep.  It’s weird to not really have that sense of disconnect.  I just seemed to effortlessly slide from Virginia to London.  Maybe I’ve been here so many times that I no longer feel that culture shock or dissonance.  I’m feeling ambivalent about London seeming normal:  I miss that exuberance that I see all around me with my fellow students seeking that London experience immediately and with new eyes, but I also love being familiar with this city, like meeting an old friend–you’ve both changed, must always be changing, but it’s easy enough to slip back into a comfortable and mutual rapport.  I feel like I fit in much more than I have before, and I enjoy feeling comfortable and safe in this city that has welcomed me for the fifth time.  There’s a thrill, tempered but also somehow deeper, being able to return to favorite familiar places.  Walking along the south bank yesterday was one of those experiences.

Melissa and I went to the Tate modern yesterday, and I just have to take a moment to thank my lucky stars that my mom instilled in me a comfort and serenity in museums.  I make a point of going to the Tate modern each time I’m here, and yet I don’t find myself bored with it.  I walked through yesterday and wrote down the names of artists and titles of artworks that I really enjoyed, making both mental and physical notes of pieces I want to return to.  One of the most unique aspects of the Tate modern is the huge turbine room (the museum was once a power station) that serves as the entry point to the museum.  (This room was also used in Children of Men, when Clive Owen goes to meet the rich guy to ask for help [and  Guernica's on the wall behind him in the dinner scene].) It’s a massive space that has the air of a deconstructed nave, and in it, there are changing exhibitions, usually of instillation art or large sculptures.  The work that’s in there now, however, instead of filling the space, opens it up more.  There is a long crack running through cement floor of the turbine hall, some sections as deep as 18in and as wide as 8in.  It’s titled Shibboleth.

   
I also finally finished reading Atonement, which was great, but a bit in love with its own words at times (which fit for certain parts but not so much with others).  It was, however, a fabulous book to read the first week back in London.

Classes start on Monday evening, and Tuesday night I get to go see Much Ado About Nothing at the National Theatre.  Much Ado stars Simon Russel Beale (who I saw in The Life of Galileo in 2006 and Spamalot in 2007, so of course he’s Benedict in my first London play of 2008) and Zoe Wanamaker (who was awesome in some guest spots on Doctor Who . . . yes, okay, you know me well enough to know that I’m a huge dork who loves the Doctor).  I also just found out about this brilliant staging of Othello (starring Chewetal Ejiofor and Ewan McGregor) that is sold out through it’s run, BUT there are 10 day-of tickets available each day at 1030 in person at the box office.  Unfortunately, due to my class schedule, I can’t go to the Mon-Wed shows and can’t make it to the Box Office on Thursdays, so I might be standing in line the next few Fridays and Saturdays.  (Ashley, if you’re reading this, I will try to get Ewan’s autograph for you if I get tickets.)

I need to start in on this routine of classes and readings and activities in order to really feel settled, to fully comprehend that this is my life for four months.  I’m off to go buy some Shakespeare texts.  Much love!

(Melissa and me outside of the Tate Modern)

the view from here

Well, I made it. I’m in London, have been since 630 (that’s 130 to all you east-coasters), and have been up since then. I’m surprisingly untired, but I know my cognition and general mental faculties have suffered a bit at the sleep depravation. My goal is to stay up until 2130, then crash. I’ve got to get up early-ish tomorrow to go to the bank and try to open an account so that I can go ahead and buy a bunch of pounds before the Bush administration can screw up the economy any more .(I know there’s a cycle to these things, and it’s more complicated than just one man, but I’m in a finger-pointing mood, so just deal.)

I’m sitting at my desk in my NIDO cube (room), and I can see the City from here, with the Gherkin straight ahead (though it looks considerably less phallic at night). If I sit all the way up to the desk, I can see the dome of St. Paul’s faintly illuminated by the ambient light. It’s fairly breathtaking and a wholly different view from that of my previous london study experience. From the fifteenth floor of this brand-new, modern, glass tower of student apartments, I see most clearly the financial center of london, all gleaming glass and stacks of lights. Before, it was the third floor of Regent’s college, and out of that window all we could see was the dumpster below and the tree-line beyond. There, we would occasionally hear the muffled sounds of the open-air Shakespeare plays being performed, but here it’s all the hustle and bustle of the city, the cars moving along Pentonville Road towards Angel or in the opposite direction until the road changes to Euston Road and Marlebone, back where I once (and still do to an extent) felt at home. I appreciate the “modern” aesthetic that NIDO’s going for, but I think I’d much prefer some character and charm, some history, a place without elevators instead of with perpetual elevator operators (I am not kidding and it is as awkward as you would think). I know that nothing will compare to staying in Regent’s Park that summer, but I can’t help drawing contrasts, weighing the more utilitarian King’s Cross area with the higher-class, artistic Marlebone area (though I guess there were some trashy-ish parts there, too, I just chose not to walk in there). I’ve got to wean myself off of that, though it’s not entirely detrimental. I’m experiencing another aspect to London life, probably more real than that magical idyll I had before.

                                                               

Okay, done with the philosophical musings. Time for what went down today.

One, I am never going to think, “Oh it’s not that far, I can carry this 40lb duffle, 20lb computer bag, 20lb backpack, and wheel another 50lb bag to the next terminal.” Never never again. My back and shoulders are already asserting their dominance over my bull-headedness. Other than that, pretty smooth travel (I got a whole three seats to myself and actually slept for an hour or two!), made it to London on time, long queue at customs, much longer than anticipated trek to terminal 3 to meet the NYU London shuttle, and long queue for the shuttle. The coach to King’s Cross (the one I managed to get onto after that wait) didn’t leave until 900. 900, a bus, heading for central London. It took an hour an a half (taxi two summers ago, same distance, 40 minutes) of stop-and-go, motion-sickness-inducing driving to finally get to NIDO. Once here, though, everything went swimmingly, if a bit more independently than I was anticipating. I was able to almost completely unpack (and didn’t that feel good) before my roommate, Melissa from Alabama arrived. She unpacked, I unpacked some more, took a shower, felt human again, and we then went in search of a store that sells the Skypephone, didn’t find it, but did go grocery shopping, then lugged our bounty all the way back to the apartments (probably a kilometer). Then, I went in search (part two) of that skypephone as well as to visit the nearest Barclay’s to inquire about opening an account (I have an appointment there fore 900 tomorrow).

It’s been a long day, and we still have a meeting with the RA left (he said 830ish; i’m hoping I last), then blissful, horizontal oblivion for ten hours.

                                                    (mah cube)

my ipod’s almost full, my bags are packed (mostly), and my brain won’t turn off

I can’t quite believe that I’m leaving in two days, but that doesn’t keep my thoughts from running on a loop spiraling ever closer to London.  I have about five lists going simultaneously in my head: stuff to do in VB before I go (absentee voting, travelers checks, finishing and sending in internship apps and DMP proposal), last minute laundry, last minute packing, stuff to do once I get to London (bank account, grocery shopping, tube/bus pass, mobile phone), and general London living concerns (I know absolutely no one in this program, and hey, guess what?  no meal plan.  also, what is the dollar going to do if the US economy goes into a recession?).   And, I’ve burned through most of my DVDs, so I can’t even distract myself through that (though digital cable helps).

Despite all that, I’m also excited about getting back to this city that I love and all the opportunities I’m going to take advantage of while there: theatre and football and tesco and the parks.

Itinerary

TU 15JAN LV NORFOLK VA         200P   CONTINENTAL   2598X OK
           AR NEWARK             345P
A TU 15JAN LV NEWARK             650P   BRITISH AIR    184N OK
     16JAN AR LONDON/HEATHROW    645A                           

A SA 17MAY LV LONDON/HEATHROW    855A   BRITISH AIR    185N OK
           AR NEWARK            1135A                         

A SA 17MAY LV NEWARK             145P   CONTINENTAL   2999X OK
           AR NORFOLK VA         257P