Birmingham and Stratford-upon-Avon

 England Semester=a lot of reading

 our seats for the City of Birmingham symphony!

 Grace and I at the symphony. It was Beethoven night--his 1st and 2nd Symphonies and the Violin Concerto. 

 The Runners! 

 rooming with Madeline at the Quaker Center...

 Blake and Annie at the Cadbury Factory

 Grace, Serena, Steph, Madeline, and Madison ready to taste Cadbury liquid chocolate!

 The liquid tasting section: the essence. 

 you'll be hearing from Cameron soon in a guest post...stay tuned!

 The jungle in the Cadbury factory...'strange' is definitely an applicable word for our experience there

 life size Mayan Indians harvesting the cocoa beans

 the trading scale. 

 We visited Anne Hathaway's (Shakespeare's wife) cottage, just outside Stratford-upon-Avon. Ever wondered what Viola meant in Twelfth Night when she speaks of constructing a 'Willow Cabin'? This is it. They were commonly built in Shakespeare's time. If one was suffering from unrequited love, some time in the willow cabin would provide solace. We especially enjoyed the audio player that read us Shakespeare's sonnets while we sat in the Willow Cabin. 

 Annie and I in the lavender patch...

Some interesting decisions on how to decorate the 'woodland walk' left us wondering who was in charge?! Troll dolls are hung from trees next to quotations from A Midsummer's Night Dream...

Some Happenings At Woodbrooke (or as Madeline calls it 'Spider-Hollow')

Highlights (or lowlights depending on your role in the following events) since returning on Monday night to Woodbrooke, the only Quaker retreat center in all of Europe:

·      Madeline and I are roommates. Hallelujah!

·      Despite the pacifist dogma permeating our surroundings, Madeline has declared war. A war on Spiders. In the midst of a peaceful Tuesday night homework session in the lounge, Madeline left to get a cup of tea. On her return, she discovered a spider DOWN her shirt. Not a small spider. A VERY large one. As you can imagine, there was quite an upheaval.  (pictures of the afore-mentioned spider will come when we have better internet)

·      Wednesday contained no encounters with spiders. Sweet Relief. As Madeline drifted off to sleep, she whispered a prayer that neither of us would find spiders in our beds. While Madeline slept peacefully, I finished the remainder of my reading. Suddenly, I noticed a startlingly large eight-legged creature scurrying along the wall—mere inches away from my bed. Stifling my instinctive scream so as to not wake Madeline, I stealthily killed it. However, that spider’s corpse in turn killed my ability to sleep—every shadow turned into hulking spiders, ready to invade my haven.  Tonight is our last night here at Spider-Hollow—we’ll see how things go.

·      Tonight we had a celebratory bonfire as one of our friends on the trip, Kelsey, turned 21. We made ‘banana’ boats—bananas stuffed with chocolate, wrapped with aluminum foil and cooked in the coals of the bonfire. As you might imagine, the babes definitely capitalized on the extra available chocolate. Side Note: In the past weeks here in England, I have been abstaining from naps in an effort to make the most of every day. (Also we haven’t had any time for naps.) This week, I decided making the most of every day included prioritizing naptime. If there’s one thing I know about myself, it’s that I need my sleep. The length of my naps has increased each consecutive day, culminating in this afternoon’s nap…in the midst of which I decided I would rather continue my nap than wake up for dinner…aka I especially capitalized on the extra chocolate in lieu of my dinner.)

·      Following Madeline’s performance of Taylor Swift around the campfire, Annie led the charge to ‘run’ the labyrinth. Although the labyrinth is in fact only one inch deep (it’s mowed into the grass—the gardener here enjoys his job), it’s quite tricky to navigate when one takes into account the sharp turns, wet grass, and giggling girls full of chocolate.

·      Chocolate has been a theme this week. Yesterday, we visited THE Cadbury factory. It was like entering a bizarre dream. Things you may not expect: a full on jungle featuring life-size Mayans harvesting the ‘cacao’ bean, a Disneyland ‘It’s a Small World’-esque ride that features cocoa beans in every climate and continent, liquid chocolate tasting, a ‘music’ room featuring a larger than life gorilla drumming a Phil Collins song, and moving (‘quaking’) benches as we learned about the Quaker origins of Cadbury Dairy Milk Chocolate.

Enchantified

Today was a perfect day for the babes.   

I attribute this to the banana bread we had for breakfast*.  In a metaphorical and potentially foreshadowing sense, we may venture to paint this as the magical beginning which cast a spell over the proceeding, highly-agreeable events.

We traveled by tube.  On this subject, it is relevant to say that while I have many redeeming qualities, navigational awareness is not among them.  My ever-thoughtful friends are slowly pushing the bird out of the nest, as it were, and helping me become, shall we say, better equipped for life in general.  Their designs mainly manifest themselves in impromptu rapid-fire test questions and a very effective method of poking me out ahead of them and then pulling me along when I turn the wrong way.  The reality that today, when poked, I did not lead us astray was the ultimate and unanswerable proof of enchantment already well underway.  

Harrod’s: our first shopping destination.  At this point, I am tempted give you an estimate of the average time spent on each floor of this famous department store, but the “Chocolates and Specialty Teas” section would, I regret to announce, be an outlier which would irredeemably skew the data.  One may be tempted to label this extreme difference as indicative about the character of our group.  To that one: I decline to address your insinuations.  

Moving on: Stephanie bought a coat at “Gant.”  “Gant” is based in New Haven, Connecticut.  Yes, that’s New England.  Then on to Top Shop where Morgan, Madeline, and I dropped some pounds before lunch at Cafe Concerto: potato soup, goat cheese quiche, and goat cheese salad. (A note: goat cheese has been an unanticipated staple meal item for my stay here in the UK.  Ordering a goat cheese dish tomorrow will complete a week of goat cheese feasting--I consider this an opportunity too valuable to pass up and will most definitely impose upon our hoofed friends before the sun sets once again)

Then the much-foreshadowed and culminating event of the day: Wicked, the musical.  Breathtaking.  I, on principle, shed tears.  Madeline has now seen this show seven times (I actually understand her better from seeing it--interpret as you will).

Afterwards, Madeline and Kyle went out for an expensive dinner date.  Those of us without a boyfriend’s wallet who may have been feeling the economic weight of the earlier hours of enchantment took advantage of Scott Celley’s privileges as a Marriott elite member: three rounds of free appetizers from the exclusive “executive lounge” made an excellent post-theater dinner.

After dinner, Morgan skyped her man. Naturally, Steph and I decided to plan a date for ourselves.  This outing quickly devolved into reading The Great Gatsby aloud to each other in bed and snacking on raspberries from the nearby grocers.  While some (Madeline) have been known to accuse us of premature aging, Stephanie and I both agree that reading aloud is a lost art--noble, worthy, and completely appropriate for twenty-year-old, raspberry-snacking abroad students.

The day ended as charmingly as it began: two beds, four heads.  And, safe-guarding against any internal division and threats to the unity of the babes, bedmate assignments were split along the lines of spellers and non-spellers.  Despite what some may say, it is a just and equitable system (and, on a completely impartial note, I would like to add that, contrary to popular opinion, being an English major does not necessitate being able to spell well).  

And with those closing thoughts on both our minds and yours, the babes wish you a very many banana bread enchanted days.   

*on a technical note, the babes wish to inform Ginger & White that the banana bread from their establishment, three-inches thick, only slightly outscored their homemade strawberry jam.  Ginger & White, respectfully, should know that the babes give only slightly less credit for the perfection of their day and the successfulness of the endeavors therein to the jam.  

Ginger &White, the Banana Bread, and jams.

Below: Kyle and Madeline heading off to their date.  :)

On a completely unrelated note, on Friday, I made it to Hogwarts.  Best day of my life.

Illustrations of the last two posts (and other photos)

Above: Maddie and my jam and croissant breakfast (when we saw Morgan run by)

Below: Our Indian Adventure (Thank you)

 

Below: The babes at St. Paul's

(to the left: Cameron doing a model pose)

(to the right: two models)

John Wesley.  (Kelly Soifer, I took this photo for you.)

Madison and my new favorite used book store:  "Slightly Foxed"

The tube (or should I say... the pearl of the city...)

Back at the croissant place! (this time for "reading" and coffee).

An Indian Meal in London: Spiced with 'Thank You's'

We’ve eaten almost all of our meals out here—we don’t have the kitchen or the cookware to make our own meals. Contrary to all the warnings prior to arriving in the UK, the food here in Great Britain has been surprisingly delicious. We’ve eaten at French cafes, Portugese chains, and English pubs. I haven’t had a bad meal yet. Granted, there are some differences: when you order ‘lemonade’, don’t be surprised when a glass of Sprite arrives at your table. A ‘jacket’ on the menu might raise your eyebrows—let me reassure you, they don’t eat articles of clothing here; it’s simply a baked potato.

Last night, we were on the lookout for dinner in the vicinity of our theatre before our show (Philadelphia, Here I Come!—highly recommended by all of us). When we saw the bright red ‘Indian Cuisine’ sign down one street, Annie, Gracie Miller, and I promptly headed towards our first spicy meal in the last month! Madison, a little more hesitant--worried she wouldn’t find a vegetarian meal-- overcame her qualms and decided to join us. Madeline and Stephanie promptly headed off towards the closest reliable chain restaurant.

Upon arriving at said restaurant, we were ushered in by 4 men dressed identically (both in their suits and facial expressions). All 4 of them clustered around excitedly welcoming us--we happened to be the only patrons present at the restaurant. The lucky waiter who served our table managed to field our questions as we muddled through Indian terms foreign to our vocabulary. The first indication that this meal would be full (not just of food, but of priceless interactions) occurred when our smiling waiter brought us our glasses of water. Each of us, in turn, thanked him as he handed out each glass of water. Rather than the typical silent acknowledgement (nod, smile, etc.) or perhaps the more typical indifference, our waiter vocally responded to each ‘thank you’ with a ‘thank you’ of his own. Those math whizzes of you out there (shout out: McKenzie Berg!) might have realized this equals 8 ‘thank you’s’ (over 4 glasses of water in 20 seconds)—and only the water had been served. Much was still in store.

Annie, fascinated by the dynamics of the restaurant, wondered aloud whether it would be culturally acceptable to ask our waiter whether it was a family run business—we had only seen Indians since entering. After realizing that we already had and would continue to experience quite a bit of awkwardness due to our communication issues, she decided she might as well go for it. After we successfully ordered our entrees (this involved quite a few hand gestures and repeated words to ensure we would all receive what we intended. Madison, the lone vegetarian in the group, spent a particularly long time verifying that she was in fact ordering a vegetarian meal.), he was pleasantly surprised by Annie’s questions:

“Is this a family run restaurant?”

“yes, yes it is.”

“oh wow, so you’re all related?”

“uh…….(blank look of confusion…)”

“this is a family run restaurant, right? So all of you are related to one another?”

“uh……no.”

after a little more silence accentuated by his perpetual grin, our conversation continued. Upon discovering that we were from California, he excitedly told us about his interaction with a Texan the previous night. Apparently, a mere 6 year old boy asked for the spiciest item on the menu (Bradley Goodin: he's your soul brother). His night ended in tears. After bonding over this tale (he was thrilled we had heard of Texas, not to mention that Madison actually lives there), he became our devoted friend and explained how he had immigrated from Bangladesh just two years earlier. Meanwhile, you might be picturing something like ‘Jai Ho’ playing in the background. False. “Pirates of the Caribbean’ was the soundtrack to our meal.

Despite the small hindrances, we were excited about our successful interaction. We suddenly realized time was ticking and we had a show to be at! Luckily, our beaming waiter returned with our meals shortly. Keep in mind that each individual meal arrived in multiple dishes…the number of ‘thank you’s’ exchanged by this point is rising exponentially. The first dish he set on the table was an array of all different shapes and types of meat. We were a little confused, though, when he placed it next to Madison's plate. Assuming that he had just mixed up meals (completely understandable after the many communication breakdowns which had already occurred), we all chimed in.  As Madison confirmed that the substances next to her were indeed meat, she attempted to explain to our waiter how she talked about being vegetarian earlier and that’s why she had put forth such an effort to order a vegetarian meal. This interaction concluded with another helpful waiter bustling over to explain that not only had Madison not ordered a vegetarian dish, she had actually gotten the meal with the most variety and quantity of meat.

Thankfully, Annie, Gracie, and I had enough rice and naan to feed Madison. Our meals were incredible, and we were fully satisfied. The dessert came as part of the meal package, and Annie and I eagerly awaited our well-earned Indian dessert. When it finally arrived, we were surprised by a cottage-cheese type substance that tasted a bit like milk. As you might have guessed after yesterday’s post, this included neither of Annie’s two favorite ingredients: bread and chocolate. Despite the surprising dessert, we left the restaurant labeling it as both one of our funniest and best meals yet on England Semester. As we reminisced on our interactions during the walk to the theatre (especially Annie assuming that all the waiters were related), we burst into laughter upon seeing an Indian man waving a sign. After joking with Annie that he also was probably related to our waiters, we began laughing even harder when upon further examination, we realized that his sign was advertising for the one and only Indian restaurant we had just left…

An Anecdote

This morning, Annie and I went on a little breakfast date to Le Pain Quotidien, a delicious little bakery restaurant. Yes, it is a chain. I originally intended to be really adventurous and stay away from that kind of thing but they just have the best bread, which is Annie’s favorite food so of course we had to go there. So we came in, sat down, ordered our Mochaccinos, and a hot croissant sandwich for each of us. Halfway through our breakfast, we noticed the lovely jam holder that had three flavors: blueberry, apricot, and even a homemade nutella-like spread. (It was a bummer to realize this too late because we obviously couldn’t put the chocolate spread on our gruyere-tomato croissants.) Meanwhile, I made some remark like “Probably Morgan and Stephanie are on a run right now while we are eating all of this food!” Well, by then the croissants were all gone, the mochaccinos were halfway gone, and we still hadn’t had a chance to taste the jam!

We ordered another croissant to share, just a plain one. Don’t tell anyone, it’s our little secret.

The croissant came, we proceeded to polish that one off, alternating bites with plenty of chocolate spread and raspberry jam. The croissant was gone, and I daringly plunged my spoon into the chocolate pot to just eat it plain. I put the spoon in my mouth, looked out the window, and at that very moment (I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP!) Morgan ran past in her Nikes, running tights, and tank top.

One quick swallow and the chocolate was gone, followed by lots of laughter from Annie and I, and a long walk back to our rooms in the sun.

Walking on Graves

Over three thousand bodies: that’s what I heard the tour guide say.  “Wherever you go, you’re stepping on someone,” he laughed.  In my mind flashed an x-ray of Westminster Abbey and the grounds around it: I saw hundreds of tourists bustling around like ants inside a giant tomb, with layer upon layer of skeletons.  

So many layers.  To be completely honest, at Westminster Abbey, I was completely overwhelmed and overstimulated.  Architecture layered on statue, on monument, on burial ground.  Organ music layered on a boy’s choir, on audio guides, on the shuffle of tourist’s feet.  History, art, and culture rushed at me in full tidal force, and yet, in the midst of this confusion, I was supposed to see this as a church.

I am used to spiritual spaces being connected with solitude and serenity.  It was a bit jarring, then, to stand on top of the final resting place of General Hargraves (of whom I know nothing), to watch people light candles in front of an icon, and to listen to a audio recording about the Cathedral’s nave—all the while knowing that Westminster is a place of worship.  

The layers of complexity were uncomfortable for me.  I couldn’t tell you if the chapels were more dedicated to God or to specific people.  I felt both included by their open invitations (the audio tour told me I was free to make an appointment to meet with someone from the church) and excluded by the bars which held back the tourists; comforted by Biblical quotes and intimidated by the wealth.  Was it more of a display or a functional space? When the loudspeaker stopped us for a moment of silence and prayer, it felt forced. The security guards wore religious robes over their professional, public-safety uniform.  And during the evensong, I wanted to kneel, but could not for too many backpacks and for all the chairs.

I will say this, though: the overwhelming sense of history gave me the sense that church happens, truly, among a “great cloud of witnesses.”  The witnesses, both dead and alive, gathered here together.  Christianity spans throughout time and across all aspects of life, and it is beautiful to see the vastness of this vision expressed in one space.  It should be overwhelming.  I like that at Westminster the spiritual is not compartmentalized, but the “sacred” is throughout everything (politics, nationalism, literature, even tourism).  And, as we, all these tourists, participated in the evensong, it seemed appropriate that all of the statues looked on, and the three thousand dead could hear.  

Some Great Things About London

1) People are generally very fit here.

I have two potential explanations for the accuracy of this observation. First, the availability of cheap, fresh “fast food.” Fruit bowls, salads, and sandwiches, soup, etc. The only junk food restaurants they have are McDonald’s, KFC, Pizza Hut… aka American chains. Hah. A second reason for the dearth of obesity- we are on an island. If the people were too fat, we would all sink. Simple as that.

2) There is a vast network of public transportation.

So if I lived here I wouldn’t have to drive? Sold. The people of London know that the Tube and the bus systems are the best-kept secrets of the city. I know this because the quickest and easiest way to travel on the public systems is to purchase a re-loadable Oyster Card. What does the Oyster lead to? The Tube, the ‘Pearl Of London,’ as I’ve heard some say.* Also the buses are red, my favorite color.

*I have never heard anyone actually say this. But, if London cares to use the Pearl metaphor as a marketing slogan for the Tube, along with the catchphrase “It’s Bright, Clean, and Shiny” they can contact me.

3) Little kids ride around on scooters instead of walking or riding a bike.

Yesterday I was walking around our neighborhood in the afternoon. School had just gotten out. Dozens of kids whizzed past me on their scooters. One little guy did not look old enough or big enough to be scooter-certified, but since his school uniform consisted of a tweed blazer, tie, and trousers and he was probably 4 years old I was glad to see him have a little fun after school.

4) The museums are free.

As you saw from Annie’s last post, we have been exposed to great works of art in the past couple days during our stay- Medieval stained glass, a collection of Raphael paintings, Rodin sculptures, a large gem collection, The Giant Fetus. I could go on and on! Hopefully there will be many more educational museum trips to come, and no more fetuses.

This post serves two purposes: to educate you about some exciting cultural differences, and to help my parents begin to understand why I will be living here and not in the US in a few years. Toodles!

Dinosaurs, pregnancy, etc.

So we've taken some independent museum trips!  Yesterday was especially girly: after drinking Starbucks on the steps of the V&A, we toured their Ball Gown exhibit.  The day before we went to the natural history museum.  Not sure how to synthesize that experience in words... 

Surprise!  Giant fetus exhibit!

They advertise having a blue whale... not true.  It was plastic.  

Lastly, Barbara Manatee.  Chris, I took this picture for you.

Here is a flattering picture of Cameron.  We were walking along the Thames on our way to a midnight production of "As You Like It" at the Old Globe.  (This picture is for your benefit, Rachel.)

And here are more pictures from York! (I apologize for the anachronism.  This is all very confusing because old churches can all look alike in pictures.  These, specifically, are from the time last week--we were not yet in London--when the babes took a treacherous fifteen minute hike up to the top of the York Minster Cathedral)

The four of us at the top!