Just Debbie again tonight, and this will be a quick post. Yesterday was Sunday, which means it was church day! I've been assigned to attend a different building with a different congregation from Sarah, and mine happens to meet at a building that takes about an hour and a half to reach by the Tube. It's about a 20 minute walk to the nearest Tube station, then a 45 minute ride on the underground, then another 15-20 minute walk to the chapel from that station...and repeat for the journey back home. (I realize that doesn't add up to an hour and a half, but you have to factor in some time to get lost and miss trains and such. Plus the most direct route uses a Tube line that was conveniently out of service over the weekend.) The Oyster cards (London Underground passes) we purchased when we first got here are only effective within certain zones of London, and my chapel happens to be outside of those zones, so we get to pay an extra $4 every time we want to go to church. What does all this mean? It's an ADVENTURE to attend church, with a higher time and money investment than I've ever had to make before. And I'll probably never have to make that sacrifice ever again in my life. But I actually rather enjoy it--it gives me two hours to sit quietly and think, read, write, reflect on life...good stuff.
But if I didn't actually enjoy the down time on public transportation, would it be worth it? ...ABSOLUTELY. The ward is SO welcoming and loving. Before the group of us who traveled together even entered the chapel doors, the CUTEST little girl came up to us all and gave us each a hug. She even gave a couple of us STICKERS! And when we did enter the chapel, the adults were even more welcoming toward us. A couple of women on the opposite side of the room (Susan and Marcia) immediately caught our eye--after multiple others introduced themselves to us, anyway--and motioned for us to sit in the row in front of them. They were simply marvelous. They were both from Africa, though I unfortunately don't remember which specific country. The woman and child sitting in front of us were from Brazil, and there were some couples from the Philippines in nearby rows, and they all introduced themselves to us and seemed sincerely excited to meet this year's crop of BYU Cougars. The bishop told us that this ward might be the most diverse in the church, with its members hailing from upwards of 25 different countries, mostly in Africa. It is WONDERFUL to worship the same God in the same way as all these people from all over the world, and it is wonderful to feel of their pioneer faith and dedication. I was impressed not only by their sincerity in worship but also the unity I felt among the congregation. It really felt like one big, loving family...and I am excited to be a part of that family for the next few weeks. It felt like home.
Today I attended my first real church service at a church that wasn't my own. Elena, Ashley and I went to the Southwark Cathedral (pronounced SUTTHICK Cathedral...just the way it's spelled, of course) for Evensong. The architecture was masterful, the decorations slightly morbid, the singing beautiful, the prayer moving. There is power in humble communication with God, no matter who is speaking or even what exactly is being said. Take a humble heart and willing hands and God will listen and respond.
And tomorrow we wake up early to take a one-hour coach (or bus, if you prefer the American) to the London, UK temple! Here's some trivia for you: the London temple serves a total of 25 LDS stakes or districts, or one third the number of stakes served by the Provo, UT temple. But we rise early tomorrow, so goodnight unto you all...
Monday, May 10, 2010
Saturday, May 8, 2010
The end of a blogging hiatus
Just Debbie here, and it has officially been far too long since I've blogged. I'm finally beginning to warm up to London life--literally. A girl next door, genius that she is, discovered the thermostat on our flat so we are no longer freezing in our beds every night. Step outside, though, and it's still cold all the time.
How can I adequately represent a week's worth of traveling, sight-seeing, thinking, feeling, and learning in a few paragraphs? Answer: I can't. So you'll just get a few quick shots of what's been happening in the city. Let's work backwards, shall we? Tonight I ate in a British pub for the first time, called The Greyhound. They served some seriously tasty food, including the world's biggest potato wedges with BBQ sauce and a deliciously hot, melty chocolate fudge cake. Yum. When we walked in, the man at the door asking for ID looked pretty bewildered to hear we weren't going to order any drinks, just...a meal. I hear that some of the others girls in our program asked some local Britons where they could get something to eat one night, and the group of boys they asked stared blankly at them for a bit before saying, "...Eat? We don't eat. We drink." So THAT'S how they do things here...
Ariel and I went to the Imperial War Museum this afternoon, after spending a VERY leisurely morning at home. Honestly, as much as I want to everything there is to see in England and not waste a minute of my time here, I really needed some time just to relax and read in bed. The War Museum was...pretty depressing. They did an excellent job with the exhibits we saw (The Children's War and the Holocaust Exhibit), and I appreciated the way they focused on individuals and their stories. That, to me, is what history is all about--the PEOPLE and how events affect them. They had a model of what a WWII home looked like, and I sort of chuckled when I came to the room that obviously belonged to a teen girl, with her dress laid out on her bed, a picture of Hugh Grant above her vanity, and pictures of a dashing young soldier boy by her bed. I compare that to the rooms of my roommates in college and realize that times haven't changed much.
So, I'm finally coming to really enjoy being in London. I like just walking around the city, navigating the Tube even if train lines are out of service, looking the right (or left) way
when crossing the street, hearing the rare British accent mixed in with all the foreign languages, enjoying the view passing below as I take a double-decker bus. Still, though, I need my breaks for greenery and nature. It took until Wednesday or Thursday this week for me to finally explore the sprawling Hyde Park just across the street from my flats. It is HUGE and so very, very beautiful. If it hadn't been so cold, I could have stayed there for HOURS frolicking among the walkways and trees and bushes and grass and flowers. The gardens outside of Kensington Palace, where Queen Victoria grew up, literally took my breath away. I also really enjoyed traipsing around Kew Gardens on Friday morning...and even if I was frozen the whole time, I didn't mind so much, because there were acres and acres of grass, trees, ponds, wildlife, flowers, shrubs, and general beauty on which to feast my soul. And it WAS feast for the soul...
And afterward I purchased my first order of fish and chips, which was a finger-licking feast for the belly, too. Later in the afternoon a couple of us traversed the famous Portobello Road market, and I decided that if I were ever to work in an antique shop for a living, I would want to shoot myself in the face.
So I've always known that an exciting event like running into Elena Oliver brings a smile to my face, but when such an event occurs unexpectedly on the streets of London, the excitement level is kicked up a notch or six, and the smile is at least thirteen times wider. Hooray for the safe arrival of Elena and Cebre and the rest of the BYU Choral Music Study Abroad program in London, despite getting lost after having a map printed out, and I am SO excited that they both live just two floors down from me. Prepare yourself, London, for the biggest, longest party you've ever seen.
What else has this past week had in store for me? I was seriously overwhelmed by visiting the Tate Britain museum, and later the National Gallery. There are SO many beautiful pieces of art to be seen...I wish I could spend half an hour on each one, but there are a dozen or two per room and a dozen or two rooms in total in each museum. I'm glad that admission is free, because I will definitely be visiting those museums a few more times at least. Sarah wrote about our experience with Macbeth...and what an experience that was. Whew. I'm glad I like the rain, because otherwise standing in the pouring rain for the last few scenes of the play would have been hell...hah hah. I really like the feel of diversity in the city...this was especially underscored when we attended church on Sunday. People were there from all over the world, and it seemed that everyone there was a first-generation church member. It gave a different feeling to the congregation; I felt like together, we were all on the edge of something new, something big, something important. I felt like a pioneer. I felt like we were all responsible to contribute what we have to a greater cause.
Which brings me to a dream I had a few nights ago involving Paul Simon, a street performer we saw in Burough Market on Saturday, and a large Polynesian man. I don't remember too many details from it, but I was back in Burough Market where Paul Simon was performing El Condor Pasa. He was talking about the South American influences that had contributed to that song and the steel drum player at left was there too, playing his drum, and a large Polynesian man was there with his Polynesian sort of percussion. Together they were all playing different styles of music, but they were discussing it and collaborating and learning from each other. Paul was especially interested in the specific way Polynesian Percussionist was beating the drum, so the Polynesian Percussionist taught him what he was doing. It was fascinating to watch the musicians collaborate. And it struck me, when I woke up, that that's just how I feel about London--many people from all over, some experts in what they do, others just learning, all collaborating and learning from each other. I love it.
Wednesday was a big day. We took a trip to King's Cross Station and took pictures at Platform 9 3/4, and now my life is complete. We were standing around looking at the signs for the REAL platforms 9 and 10 when one of the workers rushed past us and, without any questioning from us, told us matter-of-factly that "Harry Potter is down that way!" Yay for being obvious tourists. We also visited 221B Baker Street, the famous residing place of Sherlock Holmes, and the house of Charles Dickens. Dickens lived on a lovely, quaint, quiet little tree-lined street, one that I definitely would not mind living on. With such beautiful, peaceful scenery, it's no wonder he was able to sit and write such long works. Wednesday I was also witness to an ATM robbery. Lesson learned: ALWAYS be on your guard, because things like that happen FAST. Fortunately, nobody was physically harmed...just financially hurt and perhaps slightly emotionally scarred. Well I think I will close for the night. Hopefully I will be a bit more diligent in blogging so the posts don't have to be as long. Until next time!
How can I adequately represent a week's worth of traveling, sight-seeing, thinking, feeling, and learning in a few paragraphs? Answer: I can't. So you'll just get a few quick shots of what's been happening in the city. Let's work backwards, shall we? Tonight I ate in a British pub for the first time, called The Greyhound. They served some seriously tasty food, including the world's biggest potato wedges with BBQ sauce and a deliciously hot, melty chocolate fudge cake. Yum. When we walked in, the man at the door asking for ID looked pretty bewildered to hear we weren't going to order any drinks, just...a meal. I hear that some of the others girls in our program asked some local Britons where they could get something to eat one night, and the group of boys they asked stared blankly at them for a bit before saying, "...Eat? We don't eat. We drink." So THAT'S how they do things here...
Ariel and I went to the Imperial War Museum this afternoon, after spending a VERY leisurely morning at home. Honestly, as much as I want to everything there is to see in England and not waste a minute of my time here, I really needed some time just to relax and read in bed. The War Museum was...pretty depressing. They did an excellent job with the exhibits we saw (The Children's War and the Holocaust Exhibit), and I appreciated the way they focused on individuals and their stories. That, to me, is what history is all about--the PEOPLE and how events affect them. They had a model of what a WWII home looked like, and I sort of chuckled when I came to the room that obviously belonged to a teen girl, with her dress laid out on her bed, a picture of Hugh Grant above her vanity, and pictures of a dashing young soldier boy by her bed. I compare that to the rooms of my roommates in college and realize that times haven't changed much.
So, I'm finally coming to really enjoy being in London. I like just walking around the city, navigating the Tube even if train lines are out of service, looking the right (or left) way
when crossing the street, hearing the rare British accent mixed in with all the foreign languages, enjoying the view passing below as I take a double-decker bus. Still, though, I need my breaks for greenery and nature. It took until Wednesday or Thursday this week for me to finally explore the sprawling Hyde Park just across the street from my flats. It is HUGE and so very, very beautiful. If it hadn't been so cold, I could have stayed there for HOURS frolicking among the walkways and trees and bushes and grass and flowers. The gardens outside of Kensington Palace, where Queen Victoria grew up, literally took my breath away. I also really enjoyed traipsing around Kew Gardens on Friday morning...and even if I was frozen the whole time, I didn't mind so much, because there were acres and acres of grass, trees, ponds, wildlife, flowers, shrubs, and general beauty on which to feast my soul. And it WAS feast for the soul...
And afterward I purchased my first order of fish and chips, which was a finger-licking feast for the belly, too. Later in the afternoon a couple of us traversed the famous Portobello Road market, and I decided that if I were ever to work in an antique shop for a living, I would want to shoot myself in the face.So I've always known that an exciting event like running into Elena Oliver brings a smile to my face, but when such an event occurs unexpectedly on the streets of London, the excitement level is kicked up a notch or six, and the smile is at least thirteen times wider. Hooray for the safe arrival of Elena and Cebre and the rest of the BYU Choral Music Study Abroad program in London, despite getting lost after having a map printed out, and I am SO excited that they both live just two floors down from me. Prepare yourself, London, for the biggest, longest party you've ever seen.
What else has this past week had in store for me? I was seriously overwhelmed by visiting the Tate Britain museum, and later the National Gallery. There are SO many beautiful pieces of art to be seen...I wish I could spend half an hour on each one, but there are a dozen or two per room and a dozen or two rooms in total in each museum. I'm glad that admission is free, because I will definitely be visiting those museums a few more times at least. Sarah wrote about our experience with Macbeth...and what an experience that was. Whew. I'm glad I like the rain, because otherwise standing in the pouring rain for the last few scenes of the play would have been hell...hah hah. I really like the feel of diversity in the city...this was especially underscored when we attended church on Sunday. People were there from all over the world, and it seemed that everyone there was a first-generation church member. It gave a different feeling to the congregation; I felt like together, we were all on the edge of something new, something big, something important. I felt like a pioneer. I felt like we were all responsible to contribute what we have to a greater cause.
Which brings me to a dream I had a few nights ago involving Paul Simon, a street performer we saw in Burough Market on Saturday, and a large Polynesian man. I don't remember too many details from it, but I was back in Burough Market where Paul Simon was performing El Condor Pasa. He was talking about the South American influences that had contributed to that song and the steel drum player at left was there too, playing his drum, and a large Polynesian man was there with his Polynesian sort of percussion. Together they were all playing different styles of music, but they were discussing it and collaborating and learning from each other. Paul was especially interested in the specific way Polynesian Percussionist was beating the drum, so the Polynesian Percussionist taught him what he was doing. It was fascinating to watch the musicians collaborate. And it struck me, when I woke up, that that's just how I feel about London--many people from all over, some experts in what they do, others just learning, all collaborating and learning from each other. I love it.
Wednesday was a big day. We took a trip to King's Cross Station and took pictures at Platform 9 3/4, and now my life is complete. We were standing around looking at the signs for the REAL platforms 9 and 10 when one of the workers rushed past us and, without any questioning from us, told us matter-of-factly that "Harry Potter is down that way!" Yay for being obvious tourists. We also visited 221B Baker Street, the famous residing place of Sherlock Holmes, and the house of Charles Dickens. Dickens lived on a lovely, quaint, quiet little tree-lined street, one that I definitely would not mind living on. With such beautiful, peaceful scenery, it's no wonder he was able to sit and write such long works. Wednesday I was also witness to an ATM robbery. Lesson learned: ALWAYS be on your guard, because things like that happen FAST. Fortunately, nobody was physically harmed...just financially hurt and perhaps slightly emotionally scarred. Well I think I will close for the night. Hopefully I will be a bit more diligent in blogging so the posts don't have to be as long. Until next time!
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Shakespearean Adventures (and more!)
iSarah here. I swear, one day I'll post some pictures and videos for your enjoyment. I have some good ones. So here's the meaning of life: Shakespeare is AWESOME. The Globe Theater is AWESOME. Crazy performances of Macbeth in the rain/hail are AWESOME. Twelfth Night is AWESOME. Getting free pizza unexpected in the middle of a performance of Twelfth Night is AWESOME.
See the pattern yet?
We went and saw Macbeth at the Globe Theater last Saturday, and it was FANTASTIC. The director, Lucy Bailey, had some really fabulous ideas regarding the production, namely the groundling membrane. Let me explain. No, there is too much, let me sum up. Bailey wanted the audience to feel like they were in hell like Macbeth and the poor Scottish thanes. The solution? Have this giant black cloth stretch out from the stage, and have little slits for people's heads and make them stand there with their head stuck through this cloth for the entire production. The insipiration for such a creation was this:
(remember what I said about posting pictures at the beginning? yeah, I'm posting some now)
The end result was this:
Before the show started, the witches came out and were running around underneath this thing. They actually lifted someone's wallet down there. I found out after the production that they kindly asked him to borrow his wallet, but I didn't know that at the beginning. And right as the show started, three men covered in fake blood popped out of the giant black t-shirt thing and they were all moaning and groaning and acting like DEATH. And another one did the same thing on stage. It was mildly terrifying.
The production only got better from there.
For the feast scene were Macbeth sees Banquo's ghost, the ghost pops out of the dinner platter and grabs Macbeth's arm as he's reaching for some food. Again, mildly terrifying.
There were people constantly running in and out of the theater, and I was standing on the edge of one of the black membranes, so they were always running past me (usually with large pointy swords...mildly terrifying). And there was extensive use of fake blood and other liquids and I was never quite so unsettled in my life as I was during certain scenes.
Around the fourth act, it started raining. Being in the Globe and being a groundling, this means you will get wet. The membrane kept us dry through act four and most of act five, but when it started hailing, we were in trouble. But the hail turned out to be the greatest cosmic joke in the world. In act five, Macduff chased Macbeth out of the theater to kill him. When he returns, what are his lines? "HAIL! HAIL! HAIL, KING OF SCOTLAND!" It took a moment, but all the groundlings started laughing because we were cold and wet and it was hailing on us and poor Macduff was trying very hard not smile. I think he may have been. It was a beautiful moment, and I think the dear old Bard would have approved.
Then I went to church (not immediately afterward seeing as how it was Sunday and it would have been a little weird to watch people kill people and then go to church) and there were a LOT more non-british people than I expected. It was still good though. (Then again, isn't church always good?)
Then I had some classes and we started studying Twelfth Night, which involved copious amounts of watching this really fantastic film version of Twelfth Night with the woman who plays Bellatrix as Olivia and the woman who plays Lucy Steele (Sense and Sensibility with Emma Thompson and Alan Rickman) as Viola. There was some enjoyable museum going and an enjoyable jaunt to Trafalgar Square. Debbie has pictures of that. I went and saw Les Mis and I felt like angels of God were serenading me throughout most of the performance. The girls that I saw it with thought it was the best thing ever since boys (boys are very important, you know) but it didn't do much for me. I appreciated the talent, certainly, but I didn't feel connected to any of the characters--and I find character connection neccessary for good entertainment.
Today we saw a production of Twelfth Night that was QUITE unlike any other production of Twelth Night I think has ever been produced. There was a lot of crazy music (involving electric guitars, drum sets, and crazy keyboard made sounds), liberal amounts of alcohol (Sir Toby and Sir Andrew were drinking through most of the production and even did tequila shots during one of the scenes), cross dressing (oh wait, that's in every production of Twelfth Night) and a lot of other nonsense. The greatest moment was, perhaps, the "What is love" song Feste the Fool sings. It was sung, in the production, by the drunk Toby and Andrew and it got crazier and crazier as time passed. Andrew wore a hat with velcro bits on the side and on the top and Maria (followed by the audience) threw felt balls at. He had a second hat, which he made the fourteen year old boy in the front row don before he dragged him up on stage. Then there was some wild dancing. Then Roger Sorenson was dancing in his seat, and then he was dancing on stage (after manuevering quite nimbly through the auditorium). And then he was dancing with one of the girls from the group who was also suddenly on stage.
And then Sir Toby came out with two boxes of pizza that he passed down my row of seats and told us all to take.
The scene continued in this manner until Malvolio showed up, at which point the partying promptly ended.
HILARIOUS.
This scene was followed in favoritism by the "To be Count Malvolio" scene, in which Malvolio speculates what life would be like if Olivia were in love with him and married him. There were many euphemisms and innuendos, which is typical of Shakespeare's comedies, although these ones were particularly pronounced. At the end of his speech, Malvolio took a moment to play air guitar and act like a rock star.
This was followed by a scene that scarred me a little. The cross-gartered Malvolio looked something like this: A man with a beer belly wearing very very very small yellow shorts (no shirt) and yellow and white striped socks that came up to mid thigh. The shorts were very small (did I mention that yet?) and very tight. It was gross, and I wanted to ralph a little bit. Actually, I wanted to ralph a lotta bit.
Still hilarious (in a distinctly uncomfortable sort of way, though).
Now, the actress who played Viola/Caesario also played Sebastian (Viola's twin brother), which made the end reunion...interesting. I'll let you imagine how that went for yourself.
So yeah, things are going well. I'm managing to do some homework between site seeing and seeing really fabulous productions. I'm making friends with cool people and we're doing cool things together. I'm planning my future life as a billionaire with Rachel, the cool English major in room F. It involves multiple houses in Scotland/England, cool old furniture, old books, and tasty chocolate treats on a daily basis (with a personal trainer to keep us from becoming large blimp-like ladies). My future is looking pretty grand. Be jealous.
I hope things are going well at home/Provo. I love you all!
Pax ex.
See the pattern yet?
We went and saw Macbeth at the Globe Theater last Saturday, and it was FANTASTIC. The director, Lucy Bailey, had some really fabulous ideas regarding the production, namely the groundling membrane. Let me explain. No, there is too much, let me sum up. Bailey wanted the audience to feel like they were in hell like Macbeth and the poor Scottish thanes. The solution? Have this giant black cloth stretch out from the stage, and have little slits for people's heads and make them stand there with their head stuck through this cloth for the entire production. The insipiration for such a creation was this:
(remember what I said about posting pictures at the beginning? yeah, I'm posting some now)
The end result was this:
Before the show started, the witches came out and were running around underneath this thing. They actually lifted someone's wallet down there. I found out after the production that they kindly asked him to borrow his wallet, but I didn't know that at the beginning. And right as the show started, three men covered in fake blood popped out of the giant black t-shirt thing and they were all moaning and groaning and acting like DEATH. And another one did the same thing on stage. It was mildly terrifying.
The production only got better from there.
For the feast scene were Macbeth sees Banquo's ghost, the ghost pops out of the dinner platter and grabs Macbeth's arm as he's reaching for some food. Again, mildly terrifying.
There were people constantly running in and out of the theater, and I was standing on the edge of one of the black membranes, so they were always running past me (usually with large pointy swords...mildly terrifying). And there was extensive use of fake blood and other liquids and I was never quite so unsettled in my life as I was during certain scenes.
Around the fourth act, it started raining. Being in the Globe and being a groundling, this means you will get wet. The membrane kept us dry through act four and most of act five, but when it started hailing, we were in trouble. But the hail turned out to be the greatest cosmic joke in the world. In act five, Macduff chased Macbeth out of the theater to kill him. When he returns, what are his lines? "HAIL! HAIL! HAIL, KING OF SCOTLAND!" It took a moment, but all the groundlings started laughing because we were cold and wet and it was hailing on us and poor Macduff was trying very hard not smile. I think he may have been. It was a beautiful moment, and I think the dear old Bard would have approved.
Then I went to church (not immediately afterward seeing as how it was Sunday and it would have been a little weird to watch people kill people and then go to church) and there were a LOT more non-british people than I expected. It was still good though. (Then again, isn't church always good?)
Then I had some classes and we started studying Twelfth Night, which involved copious amounts of watching this really fantastic film version of Twelfth Night with the woman who plays Bellatrix as Olivia and the woman who plays Lucy Steele (Sense and Sensibility with Emma Thompson and Alan Rickman) as Viola. There was some enjoyable museum going and an enjoyable jaunt to Trafalgar Square. Debbie has pictures of that. I went and saw Les Mis and I felt like angels of God were serenading me throughout most of the performance. The girls that I saw it with thought it was the best thing ever since boys (boys are very important, you know) but it didn't do much for me. I appreciated the talent, certainly, but I didn't feel connected to any of the characters--and I find character connection neccessary for good entertainment.
Today we saw a production of Twelfth Night that was QUITE unlike any other production of Twelth Night I think has ever been produced. There was a lot of crazy music (involving electric guitars, drum sets, and crazy keyboard made sounds), liberal amounts of alcohol (Sir Toby and Sir Andrew were drinking through most of the production and even did tequila shots during one of the scenes), cross dressing (oh wait, that's in every production of Twelfth Night) and a lot of other nonsense. The greatest moment was, perhaps, the "What is love" song Feste the Fool sings. It was sung, in the production, by the drunk Toby and Andrew and it got crazier and crazier as time passed. Andrew wore a hat with velcro bits on the side and on the top and Maria (followed by the audience) threw felt balls at. He had a second hat, which he made the fourteen year old boy in the front row don before he dragged him up on stage. Then there was some wild dancing. Then Roger Sorenson was dancing in his seat, and then he was dancing on stage (after manuevering quite nimbly through the auditorium). And then he was dancing with one of the girls from the group who was also suddenly on stage.
And then Sir Toby came out with two boxes of pizza that he passed down my row of seats and told us all to take.
The scene continued in this manner until Malvolio showed up, at which point the partying promptly ended.
HILARIOUS.
This scene was followed in favoritism by the "To be Count Malvolio" scene, in which Malvolio speculates what life would be like if Olivia were in love with him and married him. There were many euphemisms and innuendos, which is typical of Shakespeare's comedies, although these ones were particularly pronounced. At the end of his speech, Malvolio took a moment to play air guitar and act like a rock star.
This was followed by a scene that scarred me a little. The cross-gartered Malvolio looked something like this: A man with a beer belly wearing very very very small yellow shorts (no shirt) and yellow and white striped socks that came up to mid thigh. The shorts were very small (did I mention that yet?) and very tight. It was gross, and I wanted to ralph a little bit. Actually, I wanted to ralph a lotta bit.
Still hilarious (in a distinctly uncomfortable sort of way, though).
Now, the actress who played Viola/Caesario also played Sebastian (Viola's twin brother), which made the end reunion...interesting. I'll let you imagine how that went for yourself.
So yeah, things are going well. I'm managing to do some homework between site seeing and seeing really fabulous productions. I'm making friends with cool people and we're doing cool things together. I'm planning my future life as a billionaire with Rachel, the cool English major in room F. It involves multiple houses in Scotland/England, cool old furniture, old books, and tasty chocolate treats on a daily basis (with a personal trainer to keep us from becoming large blimp-like ladies). My future is looking pretty grand. Be jealous.
I hope things are going well at home/Provo. I love you all!
Pax ex.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Bedtime in Britain
Our second day in London is coming to a close and I (this post is from just Debbie) have far more to say than I have time to say it. We arrived in the London airport yesterday morning around 7:30 and enjoyed getting to know the London taxi driver who drove us to our flats, which iSarah has already described smashingly well. I'll try not to repeat what she's already explained.
Yesterday we mostly just walked around the street we're living on, which I think is Hyde Street, although I'm not really sure because street signs don't really work the same way here. I'm also having a bit of difficulty looking the proper way before crossing the street, but at least they have instructions conveniently painted on the streets for you. (LOOK RIGHT -->) Sarah mentioned we live around the corner from Winston Churchill's house, and we can actually see the back of it from our kitchen window. Which will be cool to think about while doing dishes, I suppose. Speaking of that, we still don't have any sponges or dish soap. Those of you who have lived around me for the past few months might know the pain this causes me.
A few logistic details: as Sarah said, love is watching someone die. Or, as Sarah said more recently, we're on a floor with six rooms, meaning we have about 16 people on our floor. Most of the rooms have private bathrooms, including ours, so we just have to share between the three people in our room. (Sarah and I are sharing with a fun girl named Britt, who grew up in China and Venezuela). The kitchen is shared between the whole floor. The nearest grocery store is Whole Foods, about a 10 minute walk away, but we'll probably be going to a less expensive store that's about five minutes further down the road. The building we go to get mail and do laundry is about a 7-10 minute walk in the other direction, on the way to the building we have classes, which is about a 10-12 minute walk. Pretty convenient.
I have already learned lots on this trip. Like that the Tube is pretty much just like BART in the bay area, except the trains occasionally stop in the middle of tunnels when all the lights go off. And that there are lots of Thai and other Asian restaurants all around. And that cigarette smoke smells worse here than back home...except Sarah thinks it's actually more tolerable here. And that the "London eye," which I thought was a giant ferris wheel but is actually an "observation wheel" or something, was originally called the "London eyesore." And that London has trolleys selling pancakes just like Hawaii has malasada carts and California has taco stands. And that it will be really interesting to take a Shakespeare class with a bunch of theater majors. And that the worst thing about London rain is the same thing as American rain: everyone else's umbrellas in your face.
And like the fact that happiness has nothing to do with where you are or how many famous people once walked where you're walking. I'm not saying I'm unhappy here, because so far it's been quite a fun adventure, but I know I could be enjoying myself just as much or more if I was back home, sitting in a tree in the leaf-shadow-flecked sunlight, a book in hand. Maybe I'll do that in Hyde Park tomorrow. Or maybe I'll go back to Westminster Abbey for evensong instead. Or maybe both.
Well I'll leave you with a quick shot of the day's experiences: I entered my first Lond
on pub! It seemed quite high-class, and had a three hour wait time to be seated. We didn't eat there. It was a Sherlock Holmes themed pub and was quite expensive. I also waited outside a sports pub, which was noticeably less full of business-suit-clad men and more full of smoke, beer, and young men with neon wigs. I also got lost for the first time, and took the Tube at night against the advice of a well-meaning person from back home whose identity I have forgotten. But don't worry, I've never been alone in the city (and probably never will be) and I've never yet felt unsafe. I watched Phantom of the Opera for just over 20 pounds, which is a pretty good deal. And for those of you who are particular, the Phantom had an AMAZING voice, with all the harshness and rawness that Gerard Butler fans enjoy and all the gentleness and soothing vibrato that Michael Crawford fans crave.
And on that reassuring note, I will leave you all to enjoy your evening and I will hit the sack. Make someone happy today!
Yesterday we mostly just walked around the street we're living on, which I think is Hyde Street, although I'm not really sure because street signs don't really work the same way here. I'm also having a bit of difficulty looking the proper way before crossing the street, but at least they have instructions conveniently painted on the streets for you. (LOOK RIGHT -->) Sarah mentioned we live around the corner from Winston Churchill's house, and we can actually see the back of it from our kitchen window. Which will be cool to think about while doing dishes, I suppose. Speaking of that, we still don't have any sponges or dish soap. Those of you who have lived around me for the past few months might know the pain this causes me.
A few logistic details: as Sarah said, love is watching someone die. Or, as Sarah said more recently, we're on a floor with six rooms, meaning we have about 16 people on our floor. Most of the rooms have private bathrooms, including ours, so we just have to share between the three people in our room. (Sarah and I are sharing with a fun girl named Britt, who grew up in China and Venezuela). The kitchen is shared between the whole floor. The nearest grocery store is Whole Foods, about a 10 minute walk away, but we'll probably be going to a less expensive store that's about five minutes further down the road. The building we go to get mail and do laundry is about a 7-10 minute walk in the other direction, on the way to the building we have classes, which is about a 10-12 minute walk. Pretty convenient.
I have already learned lots on this trip. Like that the Tube is pretty much just like BART in the bay area, except the trains occasionally stop in the middle of tunnels when all the lights go off. And that there are lots of Thai and other Asian restaurants all around. And that cigarette smoke smells worse here than back home...except Sarah thinks it's actually more tolerable here. And that the "London eye," which I thought was a giant ferris wheel but is actually an "observation wheel" or something, was originally called the "London eyesore." And that London has trolleys selling pancakes just like Hawaii has malasada carts and California has taco stands. And that it will be really interesting to take a Shakespeare class with a bunch of theater majors. And that the worst thing about London rain is the same thing as American rain: everyone else's umbrellas in your face.
And like the fact that happiness has nothing to do with where you are or how many famous people once walked where you're walking. I'm not saying I'm unhappy here, because so far it's been quite a fun adventure, but I know I could be enjoying myself just as much or more if I was back home, sitting in a tree in the leaf-shadow-flecked sunlight, a book in hand. Maybe I'll do that in Hyde Park tomorrow. Or maybe I'll go back to Westminster Abbey for evensong instead. Or maybe both.
Well I'll leave you with a quick shot of the day's experiences: I entered my first Lond
on pub! It seemed quite high-class, and had a three hour wait time to be seated. We didn't eat there. It was a Sherlock Holmes themed pub and was quite expensive. I also waited outside a sports pub, which was noticeably less full of business-suit-clad men and more full of smoke, beer, and young men with neon wigs. I also got lost for the first time, and took the Tube at night against the advice of a well-meaning person from back home whose identity I have forgotten. But don't worry, I've never been alone in the city (and probably never will be) and I've never yet felt unsafe. I watched Phantom of the Opera for just over 20 pounds, which is a pretty good deal. And for those of you who are particular, the Phantom had an AMAZING voice, with all the harshness and rawness that Gerard Butler fans enjoy and all the gentleness and soothing vibrato that Michael Crawford fans crave.And on that reassuring note, I will leave you all to enjoy your evening and I will hit the sack. Make someone happy today!
Salutations from London
Just iSarah here right now. I believe Debs is planning on posting after she gets out of the shower. So we arrived safely in London after a ten hour flight (business class--its uber fancy and tasty *schlurp*). The seats reclined hardcore and there were even convenient foot rests. I didn't sleep very much, so at about noon London time, I started getting really groggy. I lived in that loopy state of sleep-deprived euphoria for all of a half hour before I got really cranky and irritable. My deepest apologies to those who had to put up with me that day. I tried to avoid the worst of it by being a hermit and going to be prior to 7.30. I woke up this morning a quarter till five, feeling rejuvenated and well rested.
Our flat is really awesome (save for the fact that its up six million flights of stairs. On the bright side, at least, we'll all have really trimmed legs by the end of the six weeks). We live in this cool old building across the street from Hyde Park. You can see the trees from our front window. There are six bedrooms in a hall that never seems to end (that is, until it ends at bedroom F). It's windy and has several stairs and you need the stamina of a long distance runner to get from the front lobby one the ground floor to our bedroom (letter E) in the back hallway. It's an adeventure, let me tell you. Debbie and I plan on filming the whole trek for you eventually so you can appreciate it.
Around the corner from our flat is the house where Winston Churchill was born and died, which is across the street from where Virginia Woolf once lived. If we had been here a hundred years ago, we would have been hobnobbing with some pretty cool people.
Down the street from our flat is a place called Goat Tavern, which is just a shop down from Giraffe. I don't know what they have in Giraffe, but I think its a kind of funny name for a place.
Our first day here was devoted to running essential errands, namely getting AC adapters so we could access our beloved interweb. Of course, at first we could only find one kind which had America/Austrailia written at the top, so we figured that was what we needed. Once we got back to the flat (and after I forced the package open with a kitchen knife because I don't think we own scissors) we discovered they were adapters for UK plugs to use outside the UK, not for outside the UK plugs to use in the UK. We treked down to Boots (a walgreens-ish place) and thankfully the kind old lady behind the desk let me exchange my mutilated package for the one I needed. I bet she was probably thinking angry things at me, though.
Today was our first day of classes, which (I think) will go well. After class, though, we had time to do whatever we felt like, so we went and had adventures. Debbie and I parted ways (don't worry Mother Henderson and Mama Talley, we were still in groups with girls in our flat, just no longer together). Debs went down to Picadilie (I think I just butchered that spelling) Circus and I went to Big Ben and Westminster Abbey.
Now, if you've ever been to Westminster, you'll know that it's huge. Absolutely, mind-numbling big. And old. I really enjoyed being able to touch all the stone work as I walked by, simply because it's so old. The place where my hand normally ran past on the walls was smoother and worn down, which makes me wonder how many other people throughout the last I-don't-know-how-many-years ran their hand along the same patch of wall. Ariel (one of the girls from bedroom F) and I had fun poking around all the tombs and were both a little disconcerted at the idea of walking on top of dead people. I tried to translate the Latin inscriptions that I saw everywhere (and by everywhere I mean on about half the tomb markers) but studying Latin poetry doesn't really prepare you to translate grave epithets. In some I managed to get the key points, gleening that certain dead people were particularly pious (pietate) or eager/zealous/studious (studii) and there were a lot of 'here lies' (hic jacet), but beyond that, I didn't get much. I would have loved to take pictures, but you're not supposed to take pictures inside the Abbey--which does make sense, considering it is a church. There were a bunch of preists and/or monks walking around in robe like garb, which of course brought to mind Harry Potter. Especially around the courtyard in the cloisters, which looks like a set from the Harry Potter movies.
Speaking of Harry Potter, whilst getting to the tube platforms, I was reminded of dear Harry. I was swiping my travel card (id est tube pass) and it brought images of the fifth Harry Potter movie (Harry and Mr Weasley trying to get on the tube to get to the Ministry and poor Mr Weasley keeps just smacking the thing, not realizing he has to swipe anything etc etc) to mind and needless to say, I find getting on and off the tube a lot more entertaining now. Not to mention, the floor says "mind the gap" which always reminds me of Sister So-and-so's talk from last relief society conference.
I haven't yet gotten the hang of looking the right way before I cross the street, so I usually suffice for looking both ways (even on the one way streets) because I am rather adverse to the idea of being hit by a truck. Or a large red bus. Most of the cross walks are at the middle of streets, rather than at the corners (weird). And I don't often here English being spoken on the streets. I've heard a lot of French, some German, a smattering to slavic languages, and an assortment of Asian languages. I would like to hear more English because those accents are just so darn attractive. Ah well.
Tomorrow we're going to see our first show and on Saturday we're going to see Macbeth at the Globe Theater. We'll be groundlings for this show, which should be . . . interesting.
I'll post some pictures later when I'm not quite so tired.
Love you all.
Kiss Kiss.
(and to Tawny: ELBOWS)
Our flat is really awesome (save for the fact that its up six million flights of stairs. On the bright side, at least, we'll all have really trimmed legs by the end of the six weeks). We live in this cool old building across the street from Hyde Park. You can see the trees from our front window. There are six bedrooms in a hall that never seems to end (that is, until it ends at bedroom F). It's windy and has several stairs and you need the stamina of a long distance runner to get from the front lobby one the ground floor to our bedroom (letter E) in the back hallway. It's an adeventure, let me tell you. Debbie and I plan on filming the whole trek for you eventually so you can appreciate it.
Around the corner from our flat is the house where Winston Churchill was born and died, which is across the street from where Virginia Woolf once lived. If we had been here a hundred years ago, we would have been hobnobbing with some pretty cool people.
Down the street from our flat is a place called Goat Tavern, which is just a shop down from Giraffe. I don't know what they have in Giraffe, but I think its a kind of funny name for a place.
Our first day here was devoted to running essential errands, namely getting AC adapters so we could access our beloved interweb. Of course, at first we could only find one kind which had America/Austrailia written at the top, so we figured that was what we needed. Once we got back to the flat (and after I forced the package open with a kitchen knife because I don't think we own scissors) we discovered they were adapters for UK plugs to use outside the UK, not for outside the UK plugs to use in the UK. We treked down to Boots (a walgreens-ish place) and thankfully the kind old lady behind the desk let me exchange my mutilated package for the one I needed. I bet she was probably thinking angry things at me, though.
Today was our first day of classes, which (I think) will go well. After class, though, we had time to do whatever we felt like, so we went and had adventures. Debbie and I parted ways (don't worry Mother Henderson and Mama Talley, we were still in groups with girls in our flat, just no longer together). Debs went down to Picadilie (I think I just butchered that spelling) Circus and I went to Big Ben and Westminster Abbey.
Now, if you've ever been to Westminster, you'll know that it's huge. Absolutely, mind-numbling big. And old. I really enjoyed being able to touch all the stone work as I walked by, simply because it's so old. The place where my hand normally ran past on the walls was smoother and worn down, which makes me wonder how many other people throughout the last I-don't-know-how-many-years ran their hand along the same patch of wall. Ariel (one of the girls from bedroom F) and I had fun poking around all the tombs and were both a little disconcerted at the idea of walking on top of dead people. I tried to translate the Latin inscriptions that I saw everywhere (and by everywhere I mean on about half the tomb markers) but studying Latin poetry doesn't really prepare you to translate grave epithets. In some I managed to get the key points, gleening that certain dead people were particularly pious (pietate) or eager/zealous/studious (studii) and there were a lot of 'here lies' (hic jacet), but beyond that, I didn't get much. I would have loved to take pictures, but you're not supposed to take pictures inside the Abbey--which does make sense, considering it is a church. There were a bunch of preists and/or monks walking around in robe like garb, which of course brought to mind Harry Potter. Especially around the courtyard in the cloisters, which looks like a set from the Harry Potter movies.
Speaking of Harry Potter, whilst getting to the tube platforms, I was reminded of dear Harry. I was swiping my travel card (id est tube pass) and it brought images of the fifth Harry Potter movie (Harry and Mr Weasley trying to get on the tube to get to the Ministry and poor Mr Weasley keeps just smacking the thing, not realizing he has to swipe anything etc etc) to mind and needless to say, I find getting on and off the tube a lot more entertaining now. Not to mention, the floor says "mind the gap" which always reminds me of Sister So-and-so's talk from last relief society conference.
I haven't yet gotten the hang of looking the right way before I cross the street, so I usually suffice for looking both ways (even on the one way streets) because I am rather adverse to the idea of being hit by a truck. Or a large red bus. Most of the cross walks are at the middle of streets, rather than at the corners (weird). And I don't often here English being spoken on the streets. I've heard a lot of French, some German, a smattering to slavic languages, and an assortment of Asian languages. I would like to hear more English because those accents are just so darn attractive. Ah well.
Tomorrow we're going to see our first show and on Saturday we're going to see Macbeth at the Globe Theater. We'll be groundlings for this show, which should be . . . interesting.
I'll post some pictures later when I'm not quite so tired.
Love you all.
Kiss Kiss.
(and to Tawny: ELBOWS)
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Days Two through Four
Facebook won't load. What the crap.
We just discovered that we can add videos, not that we have any videos to add . . .but perhaps we will. Soon. Ish.
So we last left our adventurerererers in sunny and verdant California with iDebbie's supremely awesome family (ie absurdly cute cousins and the excellent chef, Mother Henderson, and her uncle and new aunt who's name does not mean bug). They had encountered mysterious shadows and awkward cows. Since then, we have run into rope swings, rocky beaches, pretty temples and eight singing men.
Thus we begin our highlight montage/sketch:
Friday: iDebbie and iSarah took the adorable and awesome and adventurous cousins on a walk to the infamous rope swing and attacking tree, two of their favorite hideouts. As a sidenote, the attacking tree, as far as we can tell, is not a relative of the whomping willow. For one, it's not alliterative, and for another, it doesn't actually move to attack you. The rope swing, however, provided oodles of entertainment once iSarah stopped being a scared little girl and managed to convince myself that I wasn't going to fall off the rope. It was a near thing, though. There was much lazing about and swinging about and climbing about in a tree that resembles a giraffe. Pictures wil
l come later. Or maybe now, if you're lucky. Cousin Cameron also engaged in much exploring, branch breaking, bridge building, and various other activities that are a testament to his teen boyhood.
l come later. Or maybe now, if you're lucky. Cousin Cameron also engaged in much exploring, branch breaking, bridge building, and various other activities that are a testament to his teen boyhood. Following our adventures outside, iDebbie and iSarah took a trip to Berkeley to meet iDebbie's nerdy (and therefore cool) friends and to see the UC Men's Octet, which is Berkeley's equivalent to BYU's Vocal Point. iSarah was the only white person in the attending group, which was a new and unusual experience. But Asian people are cool, so it doesn't matter. iSarah is, after all, the "cool one." The Octet was pretty sweet (as far as Octets go. Vocal Point has nine members, so numerically, they're superior). Berkeley has a lot of trees, though none of them are shaped like giraffes, which has nothing to do with male vocalists, but has everything to do with the picture on the left. It (that is Berkeley) also had a lot of bearded men, which Provo and Utah in general seems to lack.
When we came back from Berkeley, Mother Henderson had prepared a most delicious meal of hamburgers and oven fries. *Schlurp x6*
Saturday: To go in not chronological order (but the order we recalled the day in): We went to iDebbie's hometown of Hercules where we drove around a lot, frolicked like deer on open plains in her backyard, and went to the seaside. Also, we planned out at least thirteen different options for an epic reunion next summer/winter when the menfolk/Matt come back. Earlier in the day, we watched the Princess and the Frog with the adorable and awesome cousins. I think at one point in the movie, all four of us had our legs under the awesome heated table (that's right . . . a heated table. It's Japanese and I can't spell what it's really called . . .or even remember what it's really called). There were a lot of feet under there (eight, in fact) and it was a good thing the man with the knife had not taken up residence under the table at this point in time. Or else he would have had a lot of feet in his face. We went adventuring with the adorable and awesome cousins again, back to the rope swing where we picked up an assortment of trash for Cousin Skylar's homework assignment and Cousin Cameron busied himself making a bridge, stepping in a creek, and climbing up bits of trees that none of us had ever dared to climb before. And by none of us, I mean Debbie, because iSarah had never really been to the tree before and had only managed to scrounge up enough courage to swing the rope swing the day before. Climbing unclimbable bits of trees had not yet occured to me.
That night we went to a tasty dinner at the Danville Stake Center in celebration of
iDebbie has just informed me that I did not talk about the seaside. You'll have to scroll down a bit to find out what we were celebrating (it wasn't how awesome I am, or what a good speller I am. I know you're all surprised). In the afternoon, we went to Hercules/the seaside. We explored Debbie's old house (or at least the wild and rugged backyard), gazed longingly at hills we wanted to traverse, and drove around the tree streets and the bird streets of Hercules. We even saw Chris's house (sort of). iSarah meant to wave, but I didn't. I'm waving now in my mind. That should be sufficient. We then took what was meant to be a 15 minute trek to the spot of beach in Hercules that most people living there probably don't even know exist. You'll recall that we suggested a trip to the seaside in our last post...and the beauty of vacation is that such suggestions can actually come to fruition. iDebbie could not quite remember how to get to the sandy part of beach, so instead we took a scenic walk along a trail until we found an open gate to enter (right beside a sign on the fence that said "no crossing"...but the gate was wide open, and there were people on the other side), crossed the railroad tracks, and made our way down a rocky and slippery and green and kelp-covered patch of shoreline. It wasn't quite like fording a river, but it was beside the ocean and smelled of freshness and salt and peace. There is nothing quite like the smell of the ocean. We scoped out a few nice flat rocks that, if mowed so as to remove the slimy kelp clinging to them, would make perfect platforms for picnics. We also noted the ideal expanse of grass in the nearby park that would make for an excellent frisbee playing field, and therefore decided that the next time we have at least 13 friends around we definitely want to road trip back for a tour of the land of warmth and glory. And did we mention the shining, shimmering, splendid bay view? We took pictures of it, yes we did...but you'll have to take our word for it because they're stuck on iSarah's phone. Just picture it. Hint: Think "beautiful" and "grand" and you're on your way there.
Back to the dinner celebration. It was in celebration of --now I'm just really tempted to stall and make you all wait to find out what the celebration was about and why we where there and what sort of foods we ate and why Debbie couldn't really enjoy any of the food and who we sat across from and whether or not iSarah could fit her mouth around the cups used to hold the beverages and if anyone cool was there, like someone famous or a GA, which is Mormon for famous person, or if anyone had an epilleptic fit or if there were loads of old people or if there was live music or if there was dead music and now I've got you all worked up and wondering about EVERYTHING you don't even remember what you were supposed to be wondering about in the first place, which is the celebration, by the way, I'd hate for you to get stalled and forget all about it, but I think you probably already have, which is why I just reminded you and yes, I do refuse to use a period and instead am really enjoying rambling on and on and on and on which is what iSarah does best, which is why iDebbie enjoyed iSarah's Relief Society lessons so much last year because no one would ever tell me to shut up during my own lesson and all of a sudden I would be talking about my future epic progeny instead of, you know, the gospel and such. Anyway, the celebration. We were celebrating the 50th anniversary of the founding of the ward in Danville, which is now the stake in Danville. The menu was as follows: tasty salad with delicious dressing, strawberries and pecans (though they may have been walnuts), followed by pork chops with rice bits and steamed carrots, followed by bread pudding, some of which was smothered in almonds and some which were not. iDebbie is, of course, allergic to pecans (and walnuts) and carrots and almonds and the waiters/servers gave her the most almondy scoop of bread pudding, so she didn't enjoy it all that much. iSarah did, though, and I ate Debbie's carrots. *Schlurp x1* There was live music, and a "history of the Church in Danville" musical, and no general authority, though there were some people by the name of Kimball bopping about. We ended up sitting across from a woman called Linda Adams, which was coincidental for two reasons. One: Linda Adams happens to be the name of the mother of one Matthew Gregory Adams (currently known as Elder Adams) though this woman was not the Linda Adams of Matthew Gregory Adams. Two: she's a published author. She writes LDS lit (which is a dodgy genre at best, but I'll give her the benefit of the doubt and say that her writing is not dodgy in the least) and she told the two of us all about writing and how taking business classes for self-promotion and entrepenuership will help us along our journey to publishing success. It was all very helpful and she was very friendly. We're now all friends on facebook (after she accidentally typed Debbie's name as her status instead of in the search bar. Oops. We both liked the status once we friended her).
Sunday: To sum it up, it went like this: Church (awesome). Basking (even more awesome and five hours long and still no sunburns on the albino sheTalley!). Dinner (possibly even more awesome). Piano playing and singing (MIRACULOUS, seeing as sheTalley came and joined iDebbie on the piano bench and started singing along before iDebbie even opened her mouth...and then proceeded to pick the next couple of hymns to sing). (sheHenderson's note of miraculous has everything to do with the fact that I was singing and nothing to do with the way I sounded, which was definitely sub par to the normal group of people who sing around the piano with her). Oakland temple grounds/visitor's center (easily the most awesome event of the day/evening. I swear, Debbie knows every other sister missionary up there--and even all those Spanish speaking men who are not sister missionaries *obviously* so Emma Tan is going to need to ask everyone there if they know Debbie, because chances are they do. Also, there was awesome Book of Mormon artwork and other good spiritual type things.)
Thus we see the epic adventures of iDebbie and iSarah continue. Next stop:London (well, back to Hercules and then London, which is the whole reason for this blog, which we haven't even talked about yet).
Kiss kiss.
The end.
P.S. iDebbie doesn't particularly approve of the "kiss kiss" bit...after all, it's even worse than noncommital interdigitation.
P.P.S it's not noncommital if I'm commiting to something. So there.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Day One
The Adventures of Sar Ka Tal and Deb A Hens
Day 1: In which we see Dumbledore and mysterious clouds, and also in which we learn how cattle are really just like humans.
Editors’ Note: We realize this is a long first entry. As English majors, we both tend to be rather verbose. So we don’t require—or even expect—all of you to read all the way through. BUT, if you want to know the answers to these important questions, read on!
• Where is the London Bridge REALLY?
• Where is Dumbledore’s latest hideout?
• How are cattle just like humans?
• Why is so much temple work done in Provo?
• Where is the only place on earth where you can build a tunnel to the center of the moon?
• And the question you’ve all been waiting for…why is California REALLY the best place ever? (As if you didn’t already know 42 reasons…)(as a side note from the non-CA-native, whilst I am warming up to the place, I hardly think it qualifies as “the best.” My compadre is just biased.)
• Or maybe the question you’ve really all been waiting for…what is the point of this blog?
Today was the first day of the rest of my life. Seriously. Tomorrow will also be the first day of the rest of my life and so on and so forth.
And thus begins the epic documentation of the epic adventure of I, Sarah Katherine Talley, and the other I, Deborah Ann Henderson, in the far off mythical land called London.
Even though there are no epic children.
Well, except the ones on the plane to California this morning. We were treated to verbal gems, such as “I see the ocean!” in regards to the Great Salt Lake and “Look! London Bridge!” when looking at the Golden Gate Bridge. Haha. Aren’t children great?
The answer is yes, yes they are.
We also spotted a man in purple robes. That’s right. A man. In purple robes. The scene went something like this: we were sitting on a bench outside the airport waiting for Mother Henderson to arrive. I, Debbie (hereafter to be referred to as iDebbie), heard sheTalley (in this case referred to as sheTalley and in other cases referred to as iSarah depending on her role in the narration of this adventure-blog) speak the following words: “There’s a man in purple robes.”
And the first thought to come to mind? “What’s Dumbledore doing in San Francisco?”
But what came out of my mouth instead was, “Really?” Boring.
But what wasn’t boring was that there really was a man in purple robes. And a purple suit coat. And some very interesting jewelry. And perhaps a priest collar. We can’t be certain. He was kind of far away.
So either Dumbledore has come back to life and is lying low in California— which is perfectly plausible (as iDebbie pointed out, San Francisco would be a good place for dear old Dumbles)—or the clergy has done some drastic refashioning of “the cloth.”
But Dumbledore-the-Priest got in a car and drove away before we could investigate the matter more fully so we are left with fruitless speculation. There will be no apples, oranges, or pears produced as we speculate. Which is a shame. Because fruits are tasty. (Please don’t mind the sentence fragments, they were done for dramatic effect. As the authors of this blog, we reserve the right for artistic license when it comes to spelling and/or grammar. Take that for what you will.)
Mother Henderson arrived shortly thereafter and we piled into the car and drove around and iSarah discovered how beautiful the bay area is. It’s like a cross between the river valleys of Ohio and the Appalachians in West Virginia/North Carolina, plus ocean, plus awkward—but only awkward when lonesome, kind of like humans (or when they stare at you . . . also like humans) (as a side note of cattle being like humans, iSarah mentioned that if I were a cow, I’d like to spend my time on grassy hills with trees and river-bits, just like these cows, and then iDebbie pointed out that we do like spending our time on grassy hills with trees and river-bits, and in fact we were at that very moment . . . whilst the awkward cow stared awkwardly at us)—cattle on beautiful hills, plus walking paths, plus the gorgeous smell of spring time. Yeah, it’s really that awesome. We decided that California basically Smells Like Life. And that Provo therefore must smell…like death? Or at least it is void of the smell of life. To which iSarah added that that must be responsible for the plethora of temple work that is done in Provo, because the smell of death reminds us all that we need to redeem the dead…in a surreptitious sort of way. (If this isn’t making sense, don’t worry, it doesn’t really make sense to us either. And we’re pretty exhausted.)
After having a delightful run-in with some Chinese food at an Asian market where iSarah learned that 1) all Asians have an affinity for soft, fuzzy, cute things, not just Emma 2) Asian food isn’t as bad as I thought and 3) sheHenderson inherited her attraction to coupons and the use thereof from Mother Henderson, we then proceeded to lull about California and explore paths and have run-ins with awkward cows and horny squirrels (it is spring time, after all, and they were chasing each other in pairs). We concluded our lull-about session (ie basking) at a school play ground where several things of interesting note happened.
One: The Mysterious Shadow.
As we swung and thought brilliant swinging thoughts and discussed the meaning of life, the universe and everything (or just how to catapult ourselves over the hill tops) we noticed that a shadow was rapidly encroaching upon the hills to our right. It was a rather large shadow, presumably from a rather large cloud. False. There was no cloud. None. At all. Except for a little one in the other direction that could not (and did not) cast such a mysterious shadow. iSarah was convinced it was the younger cousin of the mysterious fog-cloud-thing that had encroached upon the mountains last year during a night hike and vanished the city of Provo for a few moments and was therefore convinced that the mysterious shadow was signally the eminent demise of us and our epic adventure. iSarah told sheHenderson to say her last words, which she didn’t.
And then the mysterious shadow went away.
Rapidly.
Without saying goodbye or leaving a forwarding mail address.
Two: The Lonesome Cow.
That same hill was then occupied by a single black cow. Not that I’m racist against cows or anything. This one just happened to be black, just like all the other cows. All the other cows, however, were not lurking awkwardly by their lonesome on this hill. All the other cows were on the hills to our left, grazing and not staring at us. We watched the cow meander away behind the other hills, and we never saw it come back. We’re not certain where it went.
Perhaps it was following the mysterious shadow.
Or perhaps it was responsible for the mysterious shadow. Which is not to say that such a small cow could cast such a large and mysterious shadow, but that such a small cow could (and perhaps did) control the supernatural forces that produced said shadow in the first place.
Three: The Two Young Girls on the Swing Next to Us with One Young Girl Giving the Other a “What’s My Favorite . . . ?” Quiz.
Which prompted iSarah and iDebbie to have their own impromptu “what’s my favorite . . .?” quiz. sheHenderson correctly knew that Harry Potter was iSarah’s favorite book (followed by Anna Karenina) and sheTalley knew without hesitation (okay, maybe a little hesitation) that iDebbie’s favorite cartoon was Food and Blode. Watch it. It’s good. But only when you’re tired, otherwise you might not appreciate it the way you should.
Whilst on the topic of Food and Blode, we then decided that if there were any place possible to build a tunnel to the center of the moon, it would be on top of the hills that saw the mysterious shadow and the lonesome cow, because it was already the source of such supernatural things. And if that weren’t to work out, we could always just go to the seaside.
No, really. We’re in California. And the seaside is about half an hour away.
When we were done basking, we made a very important discovery for the holders of Blockbuster giftcards EVERYWHERE! And by everywhere, I mostly mean California, but this is good information for the rest of you too. So Blockbuster giftcards expire. That’s right. Like milk and other dairy products. We discovered this when about to go to rent a movie and Mother Henderson provided us with giftcards. Cousin Cameron, however, noted that they expired on December 31, 2002. As noted on the back of the card. We figured it didn’t matter, hopped into the bat-mobile (id est Mother Henderson’s Camry) and started on our merry way to the movie rental place (which is like a library for movies!). We were not gone five minutes before Mother Henderson called iDebbie and informed us that the expiration date was void in California.
Indeed. Void. In California.
That was the only state listed on the void list, which makes CA pretty special. (Nota bene: that was iSarah speaking! Rally together, Californians, we are quickly converting the world!)(through voids on expiration dates) So, the moral of the story and the whole day and the meaning of life is that if you have a Blockbuster giftcard, and it’s expired, find a friend from California and send it to them.
And thus we see that we have gotten to the point of our blog that is akin to the point in the essay where you realize you’ve rambled on for six pages and still haven’t made your point. Or even know what it is.
And thus we see the point.
Or not.
Or do you???
The End.
Day 1: In which we see Dumbledore and mysterious clouds, and also in which we learn how cattle are really just like humans.
Editors’ Note: We realize this is a long first entry. As English majors, we both tend to be rather verbose. So we don’t require—or even expect—all of you to read all the way through. BUT, if you want to know the answers to these important questions, read on!
• Where is the London Bridge REALLY?
• Where is Dumbledore’s latest hideout?
• How are cattle just like humans?
• Why is so much temple work done in Provo?
• Where is the only place on earth where you can build a tunnel to the center of the moon?
• And the question you’ve all been waiting for…why is California REALLY the best place ever? (As if you didn’t already know 42 reasons…)(as a side note from the non-CA-native, whilst I am warming up to the place, I hardly think it qualifies as “the best.” My compadre is just biased.)
• Or maybe the question you’ve really all been waiting for…what is the point of this blog?
Today was the first day of the rest of my life. Seriously. Tomorrow will also be the first day of the rest of my life and so on and so forth.
And thus begins the epic documentation of the epic adventure of I, Sarah Katherine Talley, and the other I, Deborah Ann Henderson, in the far off mythical land called London.
Even though there are no epic children.
Well, except the ones on the plane to California this morning. We were treated to verbal gems, such as “I see the ocean!” in regards to the Great Salt Lake and “Look! London Bridge!” when looking at the Golden Gate Bridge. Haha. Aren’t children great?
The answer is yes, yes they are.
We also spotted a man in purple robes. That’s right. A man. In purple robes. The scene went something like this: we were sitting on a bench outside the airport waiting for Mother Henderson to arrive. I, Debbie (hereafter to be referred to as iDebbie), heard sheTalley (in this case referred to as sheTalley and in other cases referred to as iSarah depending on her role in the narration of this adventure-blog) speak the following words: “There’s a man in purple robes.”
And the first thought to come to mind? “What’s Dumbledore doing in San Francisco?”
But what came out of my mouth instead was, “Really?” Boring.
But what wasn’t boring was that there really was a man in purple robes. And a purple suit coat. And some very interesting jewelry. And perhaps a priest collar. We can’t be certain. He was kind of far away.
So either Dumbledore has come back to life and is lying low in California— which is perfectly plausible (as iDebbie pointed out, San Francisco would be a good place for dear old Dumbles)—or the clergy has done some drastic refashioning of “the cloth.”
But Dumbledore-the-Priest got in a car and drove away before we could investigate the matter more fully so we are left with fruitless speculation. There will be no apples, oranges, or pears produced as we speculate. Which is a shame. Because fruits are tasty. (Please don’t mind the sentence fragments, they were done for dramatic effect. As the authors of this blog, we reserve the right for artistic license when it comes to spelling and/or grammar. Take that for what you will.)
Mother Henderson arrived shortly thereafter and we piled into the car and drove around and iSarah discovered how beautiful the bay area is. It’s like a cross between the river valleys of Ohio and the Appalachians in West Virginia/North Carolina, plus ocean, plus awkward—but only awkward when lonesome, kind of like humans (or when they stare at you . . . also like humans) (as a side note of cattle being like humans, iSarah mentioned that if I were a cow, I’d like to spend my time on grassy hills with trees and river-bits, just like these cows, and then iDebbie pointed out that we do like spending our time on grassy hills with trees and river-bits, and in fact we were at that very moment . . . whilst the awkward cow stared awkwardly at us)—cattle on beautiful hills, plus walking paths, plus the gorgeous smell of spring time. Yeah, it’s really that awesome. We decided that California basically Smells Like Life. And that Provo therefore must smell…like death? Or at least it is void of the smell of life. To which iSarah added that that must be responsible for the plethora of temple work that is done in Provo, because the smell of death reminds us all that we need to redeem the dead…in a surreptitious sort of way. (If this isn’t making sense, don’t worry, it doesn’t really make sense to us either. And we’re pretty exhausted.)
After having a delightful run-in with some Chinese food at an Asian market where iSarah learned that 1) all Asians have an affinity for soft, fuzzy, cute things, not just Emma 2) Asian food isn’t as bad as I thought and 3) sheHenderson inherited her attraction to coupons and the use thereof from Mother Henderson, we then proceeded to lull about California and explore paths and have run-ins with awkward cows and horny squirrels (it is spring time, after all, and they were chasing each other in pairs). We concluded our lull-about session (ie basking) at a school play ground where several things of interesting note happened.
One: The Mysterious Shadow.
As we swung and thought brilliant swinging thoughts and discussed the meaning of life, the universe and everything (or just how to catapult ourselves over the hill tops) we noticed that a shadow was rapidly encroaching upon the hills to our right. It was a rather large shadow, presumably from a rather large cloud. False. There was no cloud. None. At all. Except for a little one in the other direction that could not (and did not) cast such a mysterious shadow. iSarah was convinced it was the younger cousin of the mysterious fog-cloud-thing that had encroached upon the mountains last year during a night hike and vanished the city of Provo for a few moments and was therefore convinced that the mysterious shadow was signally the eminent demise of us and our epic adventure. iSarah told sheHenderson to say her last words, which she didn’t.
And then the mysterious shadow went away.
Rapidly.
Without saying goodbye or leaving a forwarding mail address.
Two: The Lonesome Cow.
That same hill was then occupied by a single black cow. Not that I’m racist against cows or anything. This one just happened to be black, just like all the other cows. All the other cows, however, were not lurking awkwardly by their lonesome on this hill. All the other cows were on the hills to our left, grazing and not staring at us. We watched the cow meander away behind the other hills, and we never saw it come back. We’re not certain where it went.
Perhaps it was following the mysterious shadow.
Or perhaps it was responsible for the mysterious shadow. Which is not to say that such a small cow could cast such a large and mysterious shadow, but that such a small cow could (and perhaps did) control the supernatural forces that produced said shadow in the first place.
Three: The Two Young Girls on the Swing Next to Us with One Young Girl Giving the Other a “What’s My Favorite . . . ?” Quiz.
Which prompted iSarah and iDebbie to have their own impromptu “what’s my favorite . . .?” quiz. sheHenderson correctly knew that Harry Potter was iSarah’s favorite book (followed by Anna Karenina) and sheTalley knew without hesitation (okay, maybe a little hesitation) that iDebbie’s favorite cartoon was Food and Blode. Watch it. It’s good. But only when you’re tired, otherwise you might not appreciate it the way you should.
Whilst on the topic of Food and Blode, we then decided that if there were any place possible to build a tunnel to the center of the moon, it would be on top of the hills that saw the mysterious shadow and the lonesome cow, because it was already the source of such supernatural things. And if that weren’t to work out, we could always just go to the seaside.
No, really. We’re in California. And the seaside is about half an hour away.
When we were done basking, we made a very important discovery for the holders of Blockbuster giftcards EVERYWHERE! And by everywhere, I mostly mean California, but this is good information for the rest of you too. So Blockbuster giftcards expire. That’s right. Like milk and other dairy products. We discovered this when about to go to rent a movie and Mother Henderson provided us with giftcards. Cousin Cameron, however, noted that they expired on December 31, 2002. As noted on the back of the card. We figured it didn’t matter, hopped into the bat-mobile (id est Mother Henderson’s Camry) and started on our merry way to the movie rental place (which is like a library for movies!). We were not gone five minutes before Mother Henderson called iDebbie and informed us that the expiration date was void in California.
Indeed. Void. In California.
That was the only state listed on the void list, which makes CA pretty special. (Nota bene: that was iSarah speaking! Rally together, Californians, we are quickly converting the world!)(through voids on expiration dates) So, the moral of the story and the whole day and the meaning of life is that if you have a Blockbuster giftcard, and it’s expired, find a friend from California and send it to them.
And thus we see that we have gotten to the point of our blog that is akin to the point in the essay where you realize you’ve rambled on for six pages and still haven’t made your point. Or even know what it is.
And thus we see the point.
Or not.
Or do you???
The End.
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