Oxford Town

the temple at Battersea Park
Gwen, Kirsten, Sarah and Ricky at Battersea Park
Hogarth Street, the location of my flat
Gwen, Hannah, Reyn and I in Oxford at the regatta


So our shower is leaking water from some unseen place underneath the base. Water keeps mysteriously trickling out of the mat and accumulating into puddles. Quickly dissolving footprints are being made every time someone enters. We hung out with some girls from the fifth floor Saturday night, which up until then I had never climbed beyond the first flight of stairs. As you ascend, it gets exceedingly narrower and the stairways get more and more crooked for some reason. But according to the chorus of "This is so unfair!" and similar phrases from the top-floor girls upon stepping into our flat, I think that the leaking shower is a minor issue from the rather cumbersome list of problems they've faced. Not to mention the guys in the basement flat and their week-and-a-half long supposed septic tank leak that left their apartment wafting with unimaginably foul odors. Ricky described it as "a slap in the face" every time he entered. I think we got a pretty sweet deal.

Oxford on Saturday was all I expected aside from the hidden regatta we stumbled upon on accident. Many participants were wearing horned hats and a riverside party stretched on where all the surveyors gathered and lots of "Pimms," a mystery beverage (beer of some kind?) was served. Gwen, Reyn, Hannah and I all took a seat in the grass by the river to eat paninis and watch the long boats pass by. Oxford I learned is not a single university but it is actually made up of many small colleges all clustered together, one after another. It was otherwise pretty with old architecture and a long strip of shops and street performers. I can't imagine what it would be like to go to school there.

My favorite part of this week was Battersea Park. Three tube stops away, and what a gorgeous find. You get to cross this long bridge over the Thames and the entire park runs alongside the river. We went at around seven at night so we got to see the park during its last few hours of daylight. The sun seemed to illuminate everything so beautifully. We were lured to the park by a description I read of live music and a barbecue. It took awhile to find these things, but on our hunt, we found a temple that sort of emerged out of nowhere. It was huge and I don't really know its significance, but we couldn't move on from it without staring and circling around it a few times. It was mesmerizing. It was there that we could hear faint sounds of music in the distance and we followed it to the restaurant we had been looking for. Although the sound machine and "Macarena" failed to meet my prior expectations, it was a whole lot of fun to laugh at. And the scenery and weather were just so brilliant that evening that we couldn't have had a bad time even with the terrible music. Five of us shared a bottle of red wine by the duck pond and took a lot of pictures twirling by the river as the sun went down.

I ate at O'neills with Hannah and Gwen Saturday night when we got back from a sleepy busride from Oxford. All three of us got fish 'n chips, so now I can say I officially have had London pub fish 'n chips and I officially can claim that I loved every bite. We later that night ended up at a different O'neills at Piccadilly Circus that was quite a lot cooler than the previous one, complete with three floors of bars and dance floors and outdoor patios. It was a fun club experience. We all danced late into the night to a bad cover band who played a lot of Killers and a painful rendition of "Sweet Home Alabama." I was mostly amused by two of the girls from the fifth floor flat who were up in the front row dancing like mad, clearly on the prowl for the lead singer (God knows why). A British guy standing next to me started laughing at me at one point and said something like, "You don't like the music, do you?" I guess I wasn't too great at hiding it. As always, it was a challenge figuring out which bus to take home at the end of the night.

A trip to Paris in July is booked, complete with a hostel. I can't wait. But until then, I plan to keep finding my way around London.

The rolling of cheese and MSN

the long trail of people hiking up the hill to watch the rolling of cheese
crazy men falling down the hill after cheese

Check out the video highlights.

The Cheese Rolling Festival on Bank Holiday Monday was an all-day adventure. I groggily boarded the tube at seven in the morning to catch our bus in Victoria. The drive lasted about three hours with a pit stop in some small town where most of the shops and cafes were closed due to the holiday. Our tour guide, Gary, was a ball of energy who entertained us from the moment he introduced himself. He provided contests with prizes and music the entire ride to get us fired up, including a "cheese and beer" song that was played at least six times on the ride there alone. We started to hit a line of traffic as we got closer to Cooper's Hill in Gloucester so we were let off the bus to walk the rest of the way. From ground level we could see that there were already crowds of people flocked on the hill awaiting the races that were an hour away. I had no idea going into this how steep the hill really was... and for some reason I didn't anticipate the hike. The incline started off gradually, passing by sweeping green pastures with tall grass and patches of yellow flowers. Without warning, it quickly turned into a steep upward trek. I was cold in my T-shirt at the bottom of the hill and a third of the way through the ascent I was sweating in the suddenly apparent humidity. I found out later that there were 5,000 people in attendance, so it was quite a mob scene. Races began somewhere around noon with many fake-out cheers from the crowd before the first wheel of cheese was seen rolling down. There were all-guy and all-girl uphill and downhill races as well as a kids uphill race. The guys were the most reckless, catapulting down the hill and losing their footing halfway down to finish the race on their backs and necks tumbling violently through the finish line. Girls scooted down on their bums. Ambulances and paramedics were lined up before the event even began, which was convenient because there were more injuries this year than there ever had been in the past. Two little boys who had participated in the race came and stood by their family who was standing in front of me. "I think we might be on the tele!" they kept repeating with excitement. The bottoms of their pants and hands were all covered in mud, but they looked like they had the time of their lives. Hilarious and odd, I'm glad I got out into the countryside to experience some true English culture.

I've begun my internship at MSN UK. Tuesday morning was a quick 'interview' which consisted of sitting on a couch beside Nic O'Neil, my Life & Style supervisor, sipping on fizzy water and discussing my family and other personal anecdotes. Thursday was my first official day. I spent it at my own laptop researching celebrity hairstyles spanning from the 50s - present for a gallery that's going up on the site. I attended one of the editorial meetings in the afternoon as well as a celebration that was taking place a few floors below us for the launching of "Bing," the new MSN search engine. There were cupcakes with 'bing' printed on the icing and champagne. Everyone seems overly nice and easy-going, and they're all fairly young so it's a great environment to be in. And I have an amazing view of London to gaze out at from the full length walls of windows surrounding the office.

Found this great little pub called Troubadour down the street that is a coffee shop-turned music venue. The tables all have candles, there is a garden out back and local bands play in the dimly lit basement for a small cover. Last night I saw Glenn Hodge who crooned about his 'beautiful but testy' girlfriend who was sitting in the back snapping lots of photographs (with the flash on) followed by the five-person folky Felix Fables.

British Life & Culture this morning was a bit more dull than last week as we sat in a stuffy room listening to a condensed version of Britain's history. Another gorgeous day full of sunshine and light breeze.

Merrie England

Prince Albert Memorial sculptures, Hyde Park
one of many beautiful flower gardens in Hyde Park


I was given an oblique strategy that said "Look closely at the most embarrassing details and amplify them." Ironically enough, I was able to put it to use today. I decided to take a walk to Gloucester Square to find a copy of the Sunday Express. In the middle of the square, which at the time was bustling with a late afternoon crowd, I noticed that my sandals suddenly felt uneven. I turned around to find a large chunk of my shoe bottom resting on the sidewalk. I looked left. And right. And quickly picked up the bottom half of my sandal and shoved it into my purse. I'm sure I amused more than a few onlookers. How does the bottom of one's shoe just decide to detach itself anyways?

This evening I reheated some leftover Sainsbury brand pasta and then escorted my other two roommates to dinner at Wagamama to enviously watch them ingest heaping bowls of noodles. I spontaneously ordered a ginger beer and what arrived was a tall glass of clear liquid with a straw. I immediately felt the ginger tingling my nose upon the first sip. I think I decided that I liked it, but it was one of the more peculiar drinks I have sampled. Equally peculiar to the spicy beverage was what appeared to be a family of three sitting two tables away from us. About halfway through our meal, all three began staring at us. It wasn't just a casual on-and-off glance. It was an intense fixation of all six eyes involving the youngest of the three, presumably the son, to turn around completely in his chair to look. It lasted for several minutes. Gwen and I were facing them and we didn't know whether to squirm or laugh, so we did both. I thought I was doing something offensive. I noticed my elbows on the table but I saw that the woman's elbows were also on the table, so it couldn't be that. We came to the conclusion that maybe they thought we were famous, which was a much more satisfying and comical frame of mind. We should have known that going to a restaurant with such a bizarre name would serve up such bizarre events.

Our Friday adventure to Camden Market was both overwhelming and incredible. So many different kinds of people decked out in the most inventive clothing styles and combinations. So many rows and rows of clothes and colorful fruit/vegetables and jewelry and knick-knacky props that you impulsively buy and then don't know what to do with a day later. So many stands of greasy food that were shouted at you as you passed by the servers behind the glass. The smells all mashed together, forming both a nauseating and enticing effect. I didn't buy anything from the eager sellers even though they were ready and willing to haggle. I instead chose to take pictures and let my eyes glaze over at the people filling the streets.

Saturday morning I awoke refreshed. Reyn and I spent the day at Hyde Park. It was bigger than I ever could have imagined. Green everywhere. There were the active: joggers, bikeriders, dogwalkers and pigeonfeeders and non-active: picnicers, sunbathers and hammock-chair sitters who paid one pound fifty to do so. Reyn and I were the latter. Once we figured out that you had to pay to sit in these lawn chairs that were conveniently placed beside a gorgeous blue-gray pond, it was too late to turn back. The money collector who was dressed in forest green uniform and cap with a change box strapped diagonally across his chest was standing before us, palm outstretched. We were trapped. We laughed at his promptness and how we could have sat in the patch of grass beside the chairs for free. We saw the Peter Pan statue and Princess Diana memorial fountain and what they called the "Orangery" which was a majestic red brick building lined with twenty-foot tall immaculately trimmed hedges that appeared to be serving a classy overpriced lunch due to the outdoor patio seating with ivory umbrellas and women in large-brimmed ivory hats and designer sunglasses sipping white wine.

Hannah, my roommate, is humming right now. I think that could mean that we're all getting more comfortable. Hanging out at the flat usually involves each of us at our laptops with intermingled conversation about the next day's plans. Last night we all went out together for the first time (minus our fifth flatmate, Sarah, who we think is off traveling and plus our new friend Ricky from the basement flat). We took the tube 45 minutes away to Old Street which we thought would lead us to a club that sounded hopping from the online description. We walked out of the large station into a dreary series of narrow alleyways that passed as streets without much sign of life. After a speedy circle around and only one open door blaring some kind of music with a danceable beat that we soon discovered to be a gentleman's club, we decided to take the tube to a different spot. Gwen and I started laughing uncontrollably at nothing on the tube. And later she had to assist the man beside her who frantically awoke to the announcement that his stop was closed. Our stop greeted us with a stampede of young people in club attire so it looked like we were closer to success. The streets were packed with loud people and bright lights. We walked a bit down one of them and immediately were lured into a club by getting handed passes for free shots. The club was two levels, darkly lit and played pulsating electronic music. For such a shaky start, the evening ended with a bang. We stumbled home at 3:30 in the morning after a confusing rampage of questioning people on the street of the night bus's whereabouts (the tube stops running at midnight).

From class to Camden Market

shoes for sale at Camden Market
Camden Market entrance


Just got through my first British Life & Culture class. Our professor, Patrick Stoddart, hails from the University of Westminster. This morning we had a guest lecturer by the name of Roger Bloomfield who discussed the architecture and planning of London. He was a rather clumsy, scatterbrained older man wearing red suspenders. He laughed at himself a lot and scribbled sketches of city plans and building forms on the whiteboard. Clearly a passionate fountain of knowledge, Roger was a joy to listen to for an hour and a half. He recommended reading London like a book; all the pieces come together to form the larger story. He called the city's plan "crackers" and commented that none of the roads lead anywhere. This class looks like it will be hosting a variety of lecturers and topics, and we will be granted the opportunity to travel to different sites during classtime.

I'm delighted to say that I found my favorite coffee spot this morning during a break we had for class. Cafe Forum on Gloucester Street (pronounced Gloster...side tangent: British words regularly pluck out syllables without any particular rhyme or reason). It was the finest cup of 'white coffee' I've had yet. Maybe I was apt to enjoy anything because of the gorgeous sunny weather. Nice weather brings out adorable children in their matching school uniforms (hats and all) and mothers pushing fancy strollers with their toddlers racing ahead on scooters. It cracks me up seeing scooters being utilized by children and adults alike. Literally, the kids riding them can't have learned how to walk too long ago. It's like they skipped walking and jumped straight onto a scooter because they are quite skilled. Whizzing around one-footed; it's amazing.

A note about the coffee here. They don't do just plain old brewed coffee at most places. They do something that involves lots of steaming and espresso when you order a black or white coffee, which is what you would expect to be the most basic type. So with all this intense steaming comes a cup of coffee that is literally boiling. My tongue has been singed since day one. I think I'll have to choose between having a non-scorched mouth and indulging in coffee and frankly I already know that I'm willing to cope with the charred side effects.

It's been a quiet couple of days. Reyn and I did another round of late-night grocery shopping last night. I spent as much on a week's worth of groceries as I did at lunch earlier in the day at an Indian restaurant around the corner called Masala Zone. My roommate, Gwen and I were seated by the window so that passerbys could gaze at us as we slurped up our saucy platters. We were conned into thinking that the lunch special was both less money and less food. We ended up getting served a 'starter,' two main dishes of curry and garlic vegetable noodles and even a bowl of raspberry sorbet. Let's just say that our tiny fridge is now keeping cool a sizable container of leftovers.

Wednesday night was an unexpected blast. I had been lethargic all day and was planning on getting to bed early, but I decided at the last minute to head out to the student union with a small group. What a fantastic choice. The union was transformed into an outdoor nightclub that you had to pay a pound at the door to enter. There was a DJ spinning loud techno, hookah that left the air tinged with a subtle fruitiness and karaoke inside by the bar. The songs being sung were hilarious- everything from a pair of ballsy jokesters belting out "Baby One More Time" to a lanky stylish fellow whose shaggy hair hid his face singing an impressive rendition of "Come Together." Two of the girls I was with, including my roommate Hannah, were dared into nervously singing "Bohemian Rhapsody" which got the entire room to join in. We sat at a table outside most of the night next to two PhD students, Johnny and Andy, who were very chatty.

This afternoon a few of us are going to hop on the tube to Camden Market. Our trip to Oxford got postponed to next weekend, so looks like we'll have to come up with our own plans for Saturday.

Just Arrived...

Reyn and Hannah outside the National Gallery
Reyn and I at a stop on our first bus tour of the city
had to post this... Big Ben

I'm sitting in my flat on Hogarth Street at the dining room table looking out the window at passing cars and the Enterprise Hotel which is adorned with black iron gates and potted flowers. It is the second day and aside from the lingering jet lag, I feel quite comfortable here. Our flat is huge, I am told, compared to most of the others. There is a spacious sitting room with high ceilings and a bookshelf with the expected collection of travel guides, Shakespeare classics and Jane Austen companions. The two most surprising features of the flat: a chandelier hanging in the main room and a can of chili con carne in the pantry whose old age is revealed by the yellowing label. Reyn and I were happily greeted by a sign on the door to our room. I got top bunk (yes!). We're living with three other girls and supposedly another is on her way. Six girls sharing one bathroom should be interesting. The only real downside of the flat is the loud train right outside our room's window that seems to begin making its rounds early in the morning.

So, let me make a note of how long we were all awake for the first day. Our plane left Chicago at 6 p.m. on Sunday. It was close to an eight hour flight, but with the time switch we got to London at around 10:30 a.m. We then walked to Imperial College's student union where we were served lunch (me: fish 'n chips, Reyn: veggie quiche). Reyn asked the bartender, which if you're paying attention, yes, there is in fact a bartender at the student union because there is in fact a fully stocked bar there, if they had any diet soda. "Diet soda? Whats diiiiet soooda??!" I was glad to be behind Reyn and out of sight of the woman's scary reaction. Reyn responded with a meek stammer and proceeded to ask for water. "Still or sparkling?" I learned quickly that this is a common question in England and water is apparently never free in restaurants. After eating our 'dining hall' meals outside in the cold wind that left us all shivering, we went in for a lecture on safety in the residences. Jet lag had finally hit. The police officer's witty jokes about getting thrown in jail for ten years if caught with drugs, even cannabis or "weed as you Americans like to call it" kept my eyes open but once a wrinkly man started discussing fire drills I could barely keep them from closing. We all stumbled back to the flats (we're split up into two buildings) where Reyn and I napped for an hour before a mandatory fire drill. Since we were up and had to attend the pub crawl in a couple hours, we decided to be productive and get some groceries at Sainsbury's. This was my first official use of the English pound. After a scarfed-down dinner we began the pub crawl at 6 o'clock sharp. Londoners don't stall on starting their Monday-night partying. We went to four pubs including one called Prince-something's where I had my first pint of Timothy Taylor ale followed by The Queens Arms (common theme in pub names?) where I had my first half-pint. The bartender there was a nice 'ol chap who gave us a free taste of this great strawberry ale. The group we were with was very rowdy, especially a collection of kids from Ohio who have been in London for a week already. We ended the big crawl at the Imperial student union once again, except this time it was much more lively and packed with actual students. I tried the evening's popular special called the Snakebite which was a mixture of Foster's beer, cider and some kind of strawberry syrup that dyed the entire drink purple. Reyn thought I was drinking Kool-Aid. It was someone's birthday and everyone started singing "Happy Birthday," and it closed with the entire American side of the room chanting "Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!" I squirmed with embarrassment for our country's obnoxious tendency to raise vocal volume so tremendously when adding alcohol to the mix. It was 10:30 by the time I decided to walk home with two other girls. We got a bit lost. I crashed as soon as we found the flat at around 11. So, aside from the hour I slept on the plane and the hour I napped before the pub crawl, I had been awake from 9:15 a.m. on Sunday until 11 p.m. on Monday.

Today (Tuesday) it felt amazing to wake up at 8:00 and shower before our bus tour around the city. We had this darling middle-aged frizzy-haired British woman named Trudy lead the tour who was every bit the definition of "cheeky." She kept using words like "brill" and "fab." It was a three-hour drive around London but felt like ten minutes. The city is brimming with beautiful green parks and museums and shops. I know I won't even make a dent in all that there is to see, but I guess that's what makes this place so incredible. We unloaded the bus a few times to take pictures of Big Ben and Westminster Abbey and St. Peters where the classic "Feed the Birds" scene was filmed on its steps in Mary Poppins. We were let off at Piccadilly Circus which is essentially the Times Square of London with bright flashing signs on buildings and high-end stores. London's weather proved to be just as strange and unpredictable as yesterday. There will be warm sunny patches one minute and cool winds followed by rain the next. But the rain here is so different than at home. You can walk without an umbrella because the drops are so small most of the time that it mostly just feels like a mist. And it never lasts for long.