Posts this week have fallen off due to paper writing, intense sightseeing at St. Paul's and the National Theater, and a frantic bit of midterm break planning, but Mollie, Jenny and I have somewhat successfully settled in at our hostel in the heart of Brussels, the capital of Belgium and center of the EU. Right now, we're hanging in the lounge area of hostel, exhausted from walking about and mesmerized by the creepy, possibly nude shadow dancers on the television (think the iPod commercials but with topless sillouettes).
While I knew that travelling in a country where the official language is Dutch would be difficult, I was absolutely unprepared for the Brussels MIDI train station. With tram ticket machines that would only take coins and EU credit cards, and the ATM per capita ratio at -4, we were agitated to say the least. To make matters even more outrageous, we couldn't find anyone who seemed to know how to navigate the complex. There was a really foxy guy from Nottingham, but Mollie shook him off before we learned his name. Two hours later, we finally discover a ticket booth with humans in charge and jump on the tram.
For this reason, and more credit card/ATM issues checking in, we don't actually hit the town until about 5:30 but we get to see a great deal of it, including the entire north end (and an unfortunate cross through the red light district) and part of the city center. There, we ate dinner in Grand Place, grabbed wafels, and attempted to interpret the enigmatic Mannekin Pis fountain - details/pictures next week. I'm looking forward to a more fun weekend and can't wait to tell you all about it back in London. All my love!
Friday, April 30, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
ou est la fete?
Uhhhhhh...I feel like a mass of blubber, blubbing around. In my tiny room. Trying to catch up on Project Runway on YouTube. Even though someone's stupid video title gave away the end. Stupid Seth Aaron. He's like Jeffrey, but three times less talented. And oh my gah, Maya just left the show. AND OH MY GAH, Anthony's back! And they're designing for Heidi again - Heidi, c'mon, get out of the workroom and grab some other celebs on your show to design for!
The blubbery feelings are not my fault. I blame food and bad luck. The reason I blame food is because I have been eating a lot of it. Saturday, Jenny, Mollie and I met up with Mollie's friend Erin from Wyoming at the London Bridge Tube station to visit Borough Market. It's best described as the sheer breadth and absurdity of Harrod's but for food. There were at least 70 stalls run by different foodies, purveying the best chilli salsa or the best expensive cheese that you've never heard of or the best mushroom pate - the best smells, sights (both of the edibles and of the guys in charge), best tastes. So many samples!
I ate a lot of crazy things - fruit pates, baklava, diabetic-friendly granola, sweet potato spread, and the oddest, most expensive sample, an extremely strong olive oil made with black truffles. Greek lamb kofta sandwich for lunch rounded off my journey through food land and, with the help of an afternoon in bed dreaming about eating chocolate in Brussels, began my blubbery, whale feelings of laziness.
The reason I blame bad luck is because all my wonderful St. George's plans (well, nearly all) were mostly for naught. The day began very, very early; at 7:30am, Lizzie, Dan, Jenny and I set off from the hostel to stand in line at the box office for Jerusalem tickets (Jerusalem takes place on St. George's day - as you can see, very specific planning going on here). Well, when we get there - two hours before the box office opens, a whole hour earlier than Jenny and I stood in line for Waiting for Godot! - and there are already over 30 people there, the first ten of which have been camping out since 7pm the night before. That's before even that night's show began! Ridick. So, of course, we concede the unfortunate two hours of waiting and walk back home. Instead, I book tickets to see a different show, Stuff, written for a fringe, new plays festival. It was both interesting and difficult in plot and in what it tried to accomplish, but enjoyable as one new playwright appreciating the hard work of another. My second plan was to see the St. George's Day pageant, but due to the complicated process of buying tickets online and tube changes, Jenny and I missed the affair by twenty minutes :( Instead, we ate lunch in front of the beautiful St. Paul's Cathedral, which we are visiting Tuesday.
My final plan was to head out to Hampstead Heath and visit the poet John Keats' house.
It has a lot of interesting artifacts and in celebration of Shakespeare's birthday, a poetry reading based on the Seven Ages of Man speech from As You Like It. Unfortunately, I had to make the trip on my own and got terribly lost for an hour and a half, but I bought some chocolate to make myself feel better and visited a boutique where I held an over 300 GBP Vivenne Westwood dress (chocolate and window shopping are my drugs of choice apparently). Finally, I made it to Keats' house and as a token, got a snap shot of Keats death mask, totally weird and fantastic.
Today, I had lunch with Will and his mother, who is to take care of Willy's illness. I hope that he feels better soon because I am bored and blubbery without him. Send him love and me entertaining comments. Bon journee!
The blubbery feelings are not my fault. I blame food and bad luck. The reason I blame food is because I have been eating a lot of it. Saturday, Jenny, Mollie and I met up with Mollie's friend Erin from Wyoming at the London Bridge Tube station to visit Borough Market. It's best described as the sheer breadth and absurdity of Harrod's but for food. There were at least 70 stalls run by different foodies, purveying the best chilli salsa or the best expensive cheese that you've never heard of or the best mushroom pate - the best smells, sights (both of the edibles and of the guys in charge), best tastes. So many samples!
Huge soup vats.
Les fleurs.
Best item there: owl-shaped shortbread biscuits.
Giant, expensive, rare cheese wheel anyone?
Puddings galore.
Baaaaklaaavaaaaa *drool*
I ate a lot of crazy things - fruit pates, baklava, diabetic-friendly granola, sweet potato spread, and the oddest, most expensive sample, an extremely strong olive oil made with black truffles. Greek lamb kofta sandwich for lunch rounded off my journey through food land and, with the help of an afternoon in bed dreaming about eating chocolate in Brussels, began my blubbery, whale feelings of laziness.
The reason I blame bad luck is because all my wonderful St. George's plans (well, nearly all) were mostly for naught. The day began very, very early; at 7:30am, Lizzie, Dan, Jenny and I set off from the hostel to stand in line at the box office for Jerusalem tickets (Jerusalem takes place on St. George's day - as you can see, very specific planning going on here). Well, when we get there - two hours before the box office opens, a whole hour earlier than Jenny and I stood in line for Waiting for Godot! - and there are already over 30 people there, the first ten of which have been camping out since 7pm the night before. That's before even that night's show began! Ridick. So, of course, we concede the unfortunate two hours of waiting and walk back home. Instead, I book tickets to see a different show, Stuff, written for a fringe, new plays festival. It was both interesting and difficult in plot and in what it tried to accomplish, but enjoyable as one new playwright appreciating the hard work of another. My second plan was to see the St. George's Day pageant, but due to the complicated process of buying tickets online and tube changes, Jenny and I missed the affair by twenty minutes :( Instead, we ate lunch in front of the beautiful St. Paul's Cathedral, which we are visiting Tuesday.
The Cathedral + the tree blocking the Cathedral.
I got to rub Jenny in front of St. Paul's - with sunscreen, that is. Sweet bird in the background!
I want to grow up and be that woman's hair.
My final plan was to head out to Hampstead Heath and visit the poet John Keats' house.
Today, I had lunch with Will and his mother, who is to take care of Willy's illness. I hope that he feels better soon because I am bored and blubbery without him. Send him love and me entertaining comments. Bon journee!
Friday, April 23, 2010
je suis desolee, part deux
Second installment of Morgan's fantastical life, to the present. Again, I'm deeply sorry for the boredom that ensues - especially since some new lappy problems have arisen and pictures are at the moment a no-go :( I'll have to update this post later with the illustrious images.
Monday, April 19. Discuss Henry VII in class. Lie in bed and complain about writing my paper.
Tuesday, April 20. Hampton Court Palace visit!
Like everything else in England, Hampton Court Palace is ginormous. We tragically miss all the coolest features, and instead stumble upon a medieval kitchen with real medieval kitchen smells (meat pies, peacock, soup), a room full of tapestries, a game of Fox and Geese, and a reenactment of Queen Kateryn's preparation for her marriage to King Henry VIII, who, by this point in his marriages (number six), has open ulcers on his skin that smell really terribly. Yes, this is the education my money is buying me!
We spent more time outdoors: in the hedge maze, watching a game of real tennis (worth checking out on wiki, apparently the "real" in real tennis = confusing and illogical) and the gardens, all of which were "breathtaking," quoth the Shuffels.
Later that evening, we see Enron, a third-tragedy, third-politcal and economic satire, third-(if you can even imagine this) musical extravaganza - it sounds absurd, but it was an exciting performance, with light sabers and dance sequences and puppets. Plus, it gave me some hope for my future, because the playwright is in her mid-twenties, this is only her second play, and when the show finishes it's run here, it's touring on Broadway. Talk about rags to riches.
Wednesday, April 21. Will and I spend a lovely afternoon in Piccadilly, where we finally make it out to the Warhol installation at the Olivia gallery. It's much smaller than I expected and doesn't have a ton of information about the art, since it's more suited for people purchasing art than those viewing it, but there were some great portraits that I've never seen before, including a silkscreen print on paper which was just amazing, and the infamous neon silkcreen of Queen Elizabeth II, plus these cool "living portrait" screen tests that Warhol shot in the Factory studio of different famous/nonfamous faces. It was pretty much to die for. Then we mozy down to Green Park, spend a 1.50GBP each to sit in lawn chairs for an hour (they literally exploit every opportunity to rob you here - Will says, "Relax, we're in London," so I guess sitting in lawn chairs means we're living it up), and enjoy ice cream, pigeons, people-watching and hopefully each other's company.
For the evening, Jenny, Mollie and I walk to Soho and Carnaby Street (!!!) Everything's closing down as we arrive, but we still manage to drool over some fantastic shoes in the windows.
Thursday, April 22. Because I can't sleep for fanciful dreams of Carnaby Street, Jenny and I return after class to see how hoppin' the scene is in the daytime. The people here are not your average stuffy, London business types - everyone has something a little less conservative, a little more irreverant about their appearances. The men are wearing suits, but their ties and socks are wild prints. The women are lot bolder too: bigger hair, bigger fashion statements. This same aesthetic goes for the shops around Carnaby. There is a great vintage store that is like classier version of Ragstock, and Jenny and I have a lot of fun trying on dresses with shoulder pads and fake eyelashes. There's also this neat shoe store called "Irregular Choice," where the trainers have neat trinkets in them and the heels are really funky, chunky and geometric. It's a little bit like how Vivienne Westwood or Betsy Johnson might design shoes for Lisa Frank. At our last stop, "Office," a more conservative shoe shop, I get a pair of sensible, yet still FABULOUS, gray Oxford-style shoes. The play tonight is Posh, which unfortunately does not chronicle the life of my hero, Victoria "Posh" Beckham, but instead, gets down to the nitty gritty of a secret boys society at Oxford called the Riot Club. It's beautiful and tragic, and the cast is like 85% men under the age of 30, also a plus!
Happy weekend, darlings <3
Monday, April 19. Discuss Henry VII in class. Lie in bed and complain about writing my paper.
Tuesday, April 20. Hampton Court Palace visit!
Like everything else in England, Hampton Court Palace is ginormous. We tragically miss all the coolest features, and instead stumble upon a medieval kitchen with real medieval kitchen smells (meat pies, peacock, soup), a room full of tapestries, a game of Fox and Geese, and a reenactment of Queen Kateryn's preparation for her marriage to King Henry VIII, who, by this point in his marriages (number six), has open ulcers on his skin that smell really terribly. Yes, this is the education my money is buying me!
Henry VIII and Kateryn reenactors adjust their caps. Too historical!
Very creepy wall-to-ceiling painting in the stairwell.
Jenny + tapestries.
We spent more time outdoors: in the hedge maze, watching a game of real tennis (worth checking out on wiki, apparently the "real" in real tennis = confusing and illogical) and the gardens, all of which were "breathtaking," quoth the Shuffels.
Hedge maze FTW.
Will takes in the view.
Mollie's breath is literally taken away.
No one wants to say goodbye.
Later that evening, we see Enron, a third-tragedy, third-politcal and economic satire, third-(if you can even imagine this) musical extravaganza - it sounds absurd, but it was an exciting performance, with light sabers and dance sequences and puppets. Plus, it gave me some hope for my future, because the playwright is in her mid-twenties, this is only her second play, and when the show finishes it's run here, it's touring on Broadway. Talk about rags to riches.
Wednesday, April 21. Will and I spend a lovely afternoon in Piccadilly, where we finally make it out to the Warhol installation at the Olivia gallery. It's much smaller than I expected and doesn't have a ton of information about the art, since it's more suited for people purchasing art than those viewing it, but there were some great portraits that I've never seen before, including a silkscreen print on paper which was just amazing, and the infamous neon silkcreen of Queen Elizabeth II, plus these cool "living portrait" screen tests that Warhol shot in the Factory studio of different famous/nonfamous faces. It was pretty much to die for. Then we mozy down to Green Park, spend a 1.50GBP each to sit in lawn chairs for an hour (they literally exploit every opportunity to rob you here - Will says, "Relax, we're in London," so I guess sitting in lawn chairs means we're living it up), and enjoy ice cream, pigeons, people-watching and hopefully each other's company.
"Luxury lawn chairs? Yes please!" ~Will Connelly
Love birds? Easy pun, sorry. Seriously though, it's pigeon mating season and the males were pretty aggressively stalking the females.
For the evening, Jenny, Mollie and I walk to Soho and Carnaby Street (!!!) Everything's closing down as we arrive, but we still manage to drool over some fantastic shoes in the windows.
Thursday, April 22. Because I can't sleep for fanciful dreams of Carnaby Street, Jenny and I return after class to see how hoppin' the scene is in the daytime. The people here are not your average stuffy, London business types - everyone has something a little less conservative, a little more irreverant about their appearances. The men are wearing suits, but their ties and socks are wild prints. The women are lot bolder too: bigger hair, bigger fashion statements. This same aesthetic goes for the shops around Carnaby. There is a great vintage store that is like classier version of Ragstock, and Jenny and I have a lot of fun trying on dresses with shoulder pads and fake eyelashes. There's also this neat shoe store called "Irregular Choice," where the trainers have neat trinkets in them and the heels are really funky, chunky and geometric. It's a little bit like how Vivienne Westwood or Betsy Johnson might design shoes for Lisa Frank. At our last stop, "Office," a more conservative shoe shop, I get a pair of sensible, yet still FABULOUS, gray Oxford-style shoes. The play tonight is Posh, which unfortunately does not chronicle the life of my hero, Victoria "Posh" Beckham, but instead, gets down to the nitty gritty of a secret boys society at Oxford called the Riot Club. It's beautiful and tragic, and the cast is like 85% men under the age of 30, also a plus!
Happy weekend, darlings <3
Thursday, April 22, 2010
je suis desolee, part un
I'm going to attempt to flash forward through everything, before Cambridge, in Cambridge (part un), life up to now (part deux). Bare with me here, there are pictures.
Tuesday, April 13. We attempt to go Kensington Palace and the Science Museum by cutting through Kensington Park, but fail greatly in our direction skills and end our journey in Hyde Park instead.
Wednesday, April 14. I get a craving for eggs, buy them, then get so busy writing my first paper (eek!) that I can't actually eat them. We see a play called Anderson's English, an absurd fictional meeting between Charles Dickens and Hans Christian Anderson. Will likes it, I, to put it lightly, don't.
Thursday, April 15. Instead of going to the Olyvia Fine Arts gallery to check out a neat Andy Warhol exhibit, I sit in bed and blog :) Then around 4:30pm, Mollie, Jenny and I go shopping on Oxford Street. It's the most ridiculous situation I've ever been in. There is a store there called Primark, where the clothes are super cheap and the people buy things like they're going out of style, which they literally are, because the store clerks are running around, taking displays down and setting new ones up while wall-to-wall crowds of foriegn families and hipster teenagers fill their baskets with 3 for 1 deals, and everyone accepts this as the normal way to go shopping! - mind you, there are two floors of this nonsense going on. Jenny makes it out with a pair of sunglasses for 1GBP, while I just barely escape with my sanity. We walk into a few other stores, including this funky boutique called Bik Bok, where I get a great deal on a pair of pants for 4.25GBP (about $7). Crazy!
Friday, April 16. We set off for Cambridge, the land of colleges and more importantly, college boys. Unfortunately for us, the colleges are on Spring holiday still, but those who have stayed behind are, as the British say, smart and fit :)
After dinner at the hostel, where I learn the actual meaning of "hostel" from a particularly aggravating cafeteria lady who won't let me eat macaroni, we decide to walk around and look for dessert. We discover it at the Rainbow Cafe, a vegetarian and vegan wonderland. Then high on sweets, the boys and Lizzie meet up with us and we walk to a pub through a really terrifying alleyway where someone is sleeping (or god forbid, dead, as they are covered up with a blanket and not breathing visibly.) There were a lot of houseless people in Cambridge, which really contrasted with the wealth of the colleges. I saw a man by an ATM beg this couple withdrawing money to buy alcohol from him. It made me wonder about London, and why there are not as many people on the streets at night here and what the opinion of houselessness generally is in England. At the pub, we listen to a jazz band, then spend all our pocket change on an arcade game version of 1 VS. 100.
Saturday, April 17. Jenny, Mollie and I casually browse the vendors at an open-air arts and crafts fair. There is a woman who handknits animal toys, a guy who had some really cool junk art pieces and tons of jewelry, porcelain, hats, clothes and leatherware to go round. I buy a secret gift for a secret friend named Mabs (I love you!) and a pink handknit headband. For the rest of the morning, George leads us around on a tour of the University of Cambridge's colleges, where more knowledge is obtained and more collegiate men are spotted. I think these pictures are a mixture of Trinity and King's Colleges' grounds and church.
Sunday, April 18. Bury St. Edmunds abbey ruins!
Tuesday, April 13. We attempt to go Kensington Palace and the Science Museum by cutting through Kensington Park, but fail greatly in our direction skills and end our journey in Hyde Park instead.
Peter Pan statue & the (Lost) Boys.
Cute dogs that were playing in the park lake.
Princess Diana Memorial fountain. It was a very interesting design. It's circular and elevated so the water flows river-like around the park and kids are apparently allowed to play in it.
Cute British kids in the fountain montage!
We mistook this building for Kensington Palace...
The point where we realized we were on the other side of town.
Wednesday, April 14. I get a craving for eggs, buy them, then get so busy writing my first paper (eek!) that I can't actually eat them. We see a play called Anderson's English, an absurd fictional meeting between Charles Dickens and Hans Christian Anderson. Will likes it, I, to put it lightly, don't.
Thursday, April 15. Instead of going to the Olyvia Fine Arts gallery to check out a neat Andy Warhol exhibit, I sit in bed and blog :) Then around 4:30pm, Mollie, Jenny and I go shopping on Oxford Street. It's the most ridiculous situation I've ever been in. There is a store there called Primark, where the clothes are super cheap and the people buy things like they're going out of style, which they literally are, because the store clerks are running around, taking displays down and setting new ones up while wall-to-wall crowds of foriegn families and hipster teenagers fill their baskets with 3 for 1 deals, and everyone accepts this as the normal way to go shopping! - mind you, there are two floors of this nonsense going on. Jenny makes it out with a pair of sunglasses for 1GBP, while I just barely escape with my sanity. We walk into a few other stores, including this funky boutique called Bik Bok, where I get a great deal on a pair of pants for 4.25GBP (about $7). Crazy!
Friday, April 16. We set off for Cambridge, the land of colleges and more importantly, college boys. Unfortunately for us, the colleges are on Spring holiday still, but those who have stayed behind are, as the British say, smart and fit :)
The first order of business is lunch and Mollie, Matt and I head to a great restaurant called Nando's, a mix of Portugese and South African fair. Peri peri chicken - yes please! We spend the day walking to the river, listening to this amazing band on the street named Coco's Lovers -
visiting chocolate shops, and taking pictures of whale skeletons hanging outside of the closed natural history museum.
Our day ends with getting kicked out of the Fitzwilliam Museum at closing time and losing ourselves for an hour on the way back to our hostel (Matt: "This building looks familiar." Morgan: "I've never seen that before in my life."). Apparently, following the arrows in Cambridge that point in the direction of the tourist information center is not an effective way to become unlost, but a successful way to end up nowhere at all.
After dinner at the hostel, where I learn the actual meaning of "hostel" from a particularly aggravating cafeteria lady who won't let me eat macaroni, we decide to walk around and look for dessert. We discover it at the Rainbow Cafe, a vegetarian and vegan wonderland. Then high on sweets, the boys and Lizzie meet up with us and we walk to a pub through a really terrifying alleyway where someone is sleeping (or god forbid, dead, as they are covered up with a blanket and not breathing visibly.) There were a lot of houseless people in Cambridge, which really contrasted with the wealth of the colleges. I saw a man by an ATM beg this couple withdrawing money to buy alcohol from him. It made me wonder about London, and why there are not as many people on the streets at night here and what the opinion of houselessness generally is in England. At the pub, we listen to a jazz band, then spend all our pocket change on an arcade game version of 1 VS. 100.
Saturday, April 17. Jenny, Mollie and I casually browse the vendors at an open-air arts and crafts fair. There is a woman who handknits animal toys, a guy who had some really cool junk art pieces and tons of jewelry, porcelain, hats, clothes and leatherware to go round. I buy a secret gift for a secret friend named Mabs (I love you!) and a pink handknit headband. For the rest of the morning, George leads us around on a tour of the University of Cambridge's colleges, where more knowledge is obtained and more collegiate men are spotted. I think these pictures are a mixture of Trinity and King's Colleges' grounds and church.
For lunch, we pick out some excellent fudge at a fudge shop and walk to an open-air food market - so much fun! I don't actually partake of the street food - instead I go to a place called "EAT," where the cashiers insisted that I take their picture -
But the vendors have everything from organic olives to locally produced cheeses that I've never heard of. Everyone decides to punt for the afternoon (riding down the Cambridge river on a gondala-style boat ride), but I think trying on everything in Top Shop and avoiding situations where I might drown, is a better use of my time. For dinner, we return to the illustrious Rainbow Cafe - amazing - then stop by this pub called The Eagle with the usual gang. We see a sign there that says someone famous announced the discovery of something even more famous here; Dan was pretty excited, I think it was science-related.
Sunday, April 18. Bury St. Edmunds abbey ruins!
Before long, we head down to Ickworth House, another property of the beautiful and dirty, dirty rich English countryside. We talk to a few old ladies who are waiting for the horse and carriage to pick them up. One says they come to the grounds all the time, and repeats the word "derelict" rather often, while the other sort of comically ignores us.
Congratulations for reading to (or, more likely, skipping through) to the end. Part deux tomorrow. Mwa!
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